In the Light, We Survive
by Crystallized Tears
Summary: Earth tried one last time to wipe them out. And failed. But after six years of separation they're finally falling from the sky and climbing from the ground. But there are more tests now. Are they them? And can they survive this new world with new enemies?
1. (I) Raven

**Raven**

Re-entry was a _bitch_.

Flames licked outside the rocket's windows, the atmosphere burning against them as they forced their way back to the ground. The rocket rocked back and forth, struggling to cope.

Well, what did she expect a hundred plus year old rocket to do on re-entry?

Raven gritted her teeth, fingers clenching tightly around the manual control stick. It wasn't quite time to kick it into gear yet – not until they cleared another few thousand feet.

Behind her, her friends clutched their secure seatbelt straps (at least she hoped they were secure enough). The very thought of them, putting their trust in her to get them safely back to the ground, was enough to spur her into action. Her left hand flicked the switch that controlled the thrusters, deactivating them as gravity caught up. She wouldn't need the back thrusters again – just the front ones, the ones that should lesson impact to the ground.

 _Should_.

'Hope you're ready for a bit of a tumble!' she called through the communications system in her helmet. All she heard in response were snorts, most evidently the scepticism in Murphy's and the panic in Echo's. 'The ground isn't going to go nicely on us.'

'As long as it doesn't kill us, I think we'll be good.'

Raven barked out a laugh. 'Not planning on dying on my way back to Earth, Blake, you can be sure about that.'

She could imagine the wry smile on Bellamy's face without looking. The one that didn't quite reach his eyes, and hadn't for about six years.

Six years. They were supposed to have gone down after five. The year's delay was potentially costly – but it had been necessary. Difficult, with a lack of supplies, but necessary.

Her eyes dashed over the various dials and displays in front of her. Ten thousand feet … seven thousand … five thousand feet until she needed to flick from autopilot. _Deep breaths, Reyes. You can do this._

Four thousand. Three. Two thousand.

'Switching to manual controls.' She secured her grip around the controller with her right hand, and flipped the lever on the autopilot. The light turned off, confirming she was now solely in control of a hundred year old rocket contained in a fireball.

No pressure.

The coordinates she'd pre-programmed into the navigation remaining a flashing dot on screen, growing bigger as the rocket fell closer to the surface. She was about seven degrees off target – seven degrees that, if she didn't carefully correct, would leave them two, maybe three hundred miles away from their destination when they landed.

With a delicate hand, she nudged the stick slightly to the left, increasing the degree of their decline. The dial in front of her showed the amendment. Four degrees out. Three.

She could deal with three. Three degrees would be perhaps an hour's walk. Maybe not ideal, but manageable. For most of them, anyway. She might struggle a little with her leg brace, and Murphy might struggle supporting the extra weight of Emori, but they could do it.

The ground loomed closer, and her hand moved towards the parachute deployment system. She'd need to activate that, and then switch the forward thrusters in quick succession. If she didn't, they'd hit the ground too hard and at the wrong angle.

And like she'd just told Bellamy, she wasn't going to die on the way back to Earth. Not after six years of dreaming of stepping back out onto the ground, to walk through the forests and wade through the rivers … if they were any forests and rivers left.

Her eyes flicked to the cameras, before returning to the controls – but then she looked up again in surprise. 'Holy shit,' she whispered, forgetting about the microphone connecting her to her friends.

'Raven?'

'Bellamy … there's a valley. A green valley, looks untouched by Praimfaya.' She could hear the awe in her words. 'I can't change course now, can't land us near it.'

There was a pause while Bellamy considered her words. None of her other friends interrupted the silence. 'We stick to the plan. It means nothing for now. Get us as close to Polis, to the bunker, as you can. Once we catch up with everyone else we'll set out to get to the valley.'

'Yes sir.' If Raven had a free hand to salute with, she probably would. Six years in space hadn't quite gotten rid of the sass inside her. She wasn't sure anything ever could, not if having lived with the other six for that long hadn't succeeded. 'Hold on guys, I'm about to launch the parachute and it will be a hell of a jolt.'

'Oh god.' Harper's soft voice was easy to miss, but Raven picked it up. With her own wry smile, she pushed the release button.

She hadn't been lying to them that there would be a jolt, but it was much more than she'd expected when it came. She'd only descended to Earth once before, ironically in another hundred year old rocket that she'd had to make so many adjustments to, but the jolt hadn't been that severe …

Her eyes roamed over the dials even as she activated the forward thrusters. No errors, no problems reporting on screen …

'Shit!'

* * *

 **If you've read any of my other work, of course I'm going to leave it on an evil part. But I do have more written. Both before and after this scene (but the before needs a helluva lot more work and will eventually be its own story).**

 **Tears x**


	2. (II) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

The impact was a hell of a lot harder than they'd expected.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but he came to with blood running into his left eye and a sharp pain through his right arm. Fighting back a groan, he lifted his head from where it had slumped against his chest.

His vision was dark, blurry, but enough he could just about see the inside of the ship. Across from him, Monty was tugging ineffectively at Harper's seatbelt. Already free of his own, he seemed to have sustained few injuries, having already discarded his helmet and his gloves.

Harper was unconscious, head back against the seat. Again free of her helmet, he could see the bruise already forming on her right cheek, and the line of blood from the small wound on her forehead. He couldn't see any more injuries, but that didn't mean she didn't have any more.

Murphy was already out of his seat, limping towards the hatch door. Emori was slumped in her seat, but he was reassured by her moans. She was in pain still, but she was alive.

'Raven?' he mumbled, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. He could taste the blood – whether it was from his head wound, or from biting his tongue on impact, he couldn't be sure. But that wasn't the worry right now.

The worry now was the fact Raven was unmoving, one hand hanging limp beside her seat, her head turned away from him. He could see the crack in the glass of her helmet.

He rolled his head, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his neck. It only served to make him nauseous, and he instantly stopped, fighting it back. Taking a deep breath, he raised his left arm, remarkably less sore than his right, and grabbed a clumsy hold of the lock on his helmet. It was a lot of work, a lot of effort that left his head swimming and his vision going dark again.

'Don't you dare go passing out on me, pretty boy.' Murphy's voice was strained as Bellamy dropped his helmet to the floor. 'I can't pull everyone out of the wreck with just Monty.'

'Just … a minute.' Bellamy coughed, feeling the tightness in his lungs. 'Give me a minute.' His eyes slid shut as he inhaled deeply.

Monty's footsteps were even – no leg injuries for him then – but heavy. Cracking his lids back open, Bellamy watched as Monty heaved Harper out of her seat and into his arms. Beside her, Echo was stirring. Perhaps the only one of them without any blood or bruising on her face, she groaned as she lifted her arms to the helmet.

'What happened?' she whispered, eyes flickering open. Bellamy's head lolled to the side as he watched her. 'Scrap that. I'm not sure I want to know.'

If the situation hadn't been quite so dire, he would probably have laughed at her use of words. Before heading to the Ring with them, she'd never even heard the phrase "scrap that", let alone thought to use it. Six years of close confines with those who used it on a regular basis however, and she was using it pretty regularly herself.

Bellamy's left hand fumbled with the release of his seatbelt as he turned his attention back to Monty. With Harper, now half-conscious, pulled close to his side, he was fighting his way up the stairs. Now that his back was turned, Bellamy could see the metal shard sticking into his left shoulder, and the blood blossoming around the wound.

That was not a good sign.

Neither was the fact Murphy was fighting back tears as he spoke in soft tones to Emori, still groaning weakly in her seat. Already weak, she would probably be critical now. Moving her would likely be dangerous, but necessary – he didn't want to stay around a crashed rocket for long.

'Raven?' he called, his voice still croaky and weak. Raven still didn't move, didn't even stir at the sound of her name. 'C'mon, Raven, wake up.' His belt snapped open, and he coughed again at the sudden release. His vision swam in front of him.

To the side, Murphy carefully lifted Emori, with Echo's help. He hadn't even noticed Echo free herself. Her gait was even, so she had no leg injuries; and she supported Emori's weight easily, so there were no arm injuries.

How the hell had she managed to survive the landing with minimal wounds?

Wait, no, he didn't care. He'd deal with that later, when he got out of the wreck with the others and could take proper stock of the injuries.

He pulled his legs from where they were spread out, wincing at the pull in his right ankle. Sprain, or break? He pushed down gingerly. The pain was there, but it wasn't a sharp pain, wasn't stabbing. So, not a break.

He tried to pull forward, but aborted the attempt with a yelp as pain shot back down through his arm. Almost hesitantly, he looked down to work out what the pain was caused by.

A small pipe had come loose – or more likely his chair had disconnected some and slammed back into the wall. The pipe had, with the force of the impact, been forced through the muscle of his upper arm and was sticking out at a diagonal.

That was going to be a bitch to pull away from.

Monty reappeared through the hatch, eyes assessing those who remained. With a grim look from Bellamy, he made his way towards Raven instead.

'Get her out of here,' Bellamy whispered, gritting his teeth. 'Get her out, and I'll get myself loose.' He swallowed, and Monty gave him a sympathetic look. 'How's Harper?'

'Awake. Confused, and I'm pretty sure she'd got a broken leg and wrist.' Monty bent his head to look at Raven's seatbelt. 'Emori's the worst out there. And Raven here. She's still out.' He unsnapped the clasp and raised his hands next to Raven's helmet. 'Bellamy, we're in the middle of nowhere. I don't recognise anything nearby.'

Bellamy sighed. 'Praimfaya destroyed any recognisable landmarks. That's why we set the coordinates.' He groaned, head falling back. 'Get Raven out, then see if you can make any sense of those displays. See if you can find out where we are, okay?'

He reached his left arm over to grasp at his right wrist. One good, sharp pull away from the wall and he should be free. In agonising pain quite possibly, but free. He wasn't quite sure who'd patch him up – who would patch any of them up – but they'd pull through.

That's just what they did.

'Hey, Monty?' he asked, procrastinating just slightly. Monty moved his attention from where he was gently lifting Raven's arm to her chest. 'Thanks.' _For more than just helping Raven_.

'Anytime.' Monty gave him a half smile, then angled his body so he could pull Raven's limp body from her seat. 'Get yourself off that pole and come help us outside, though, yeah?'

Bellamy smirked at him. 'I thought _I_ was the one who gave the orders in our little group?'

'In your dreams, maybe.' It was surprising that Monty could retain his humour in the situation, but then again, that was one of the best things about him. Bellamy couldn't deny that. 'C'mon. We're waiting outside.'

And with that, Monty carried Raven from the wreck, leaving Bellamy alone to free his arm from the metal.

He wasn't sure he'd felt pain like it before, when he did finally wrench his arm free. There was the momentary numbness, the shock of freedom; and then the burning from where the nerves had rubbed against the metal as it was removed.

He tried to stifle his cry, but failed miserably, his own voice echoing back to him from the metal walls. Dark spots swam across his vision, but he somehow found himself out of his seat and climbing out of the rocket.

Monty, Murphy and Echo knelt in front of Emori and Raven, both of whom lay flat on the dry, dead ground. Harper was sat to the side, but still pale, advising the others on the best way to treat the severely injured.

Bellamy stumbled over to them, barely managing to stay on his feet as his good hand clasped around the wound in his arm. He could still feel the blood trickling – well, not trickling, more like steadily pouring …

He fell to his knees as Harper glanced in his direction. Her eyes were wide, and before she could shout, he fell forward, face-first into the dirt.

 _Blood loss._ His mind was somewhat detached from it, naming the problem without acknowledging much more. Maybe he'd hit something serious in his arm, one of his arteries. Something that would kill him pretty quickly … which was just typical. He'd survived those six long years in space to die six minutes after landing.

If he'd been able to laugh at that stage, he probably would. Because what else could you do but laugh when faced with that sort of situation? That sort of shitty luck?

With the little strength he still felt, he managed to push himself onto his back just as Echo knelt beside him, already ripping a long strip of fabric from the shirt underneath her now-open space suit. Her face hovered over his, worried, as she wrapped the fabric tightly around his upper arm, a few inches above the wound.

His vision darkened again, and he blinked, hard, trying to clear it. Echo's spacesuit had vanished suddenly, and her shirt now covered in a jacket. Where did she get the jacket so fast?

And how did her hair become so short and blonde?

He was hallucinating. At the end of it all, he was hallucinating the one he'd left behind all those years ago.

 _Clarke_.


	3. (III) Harper

**Harper**

Her head was stuffy, aching, heavy. She hadn't been aware of Monty carrying her outside until she was on the ground, and he was laying Raven out beside her.

What she had been aware of, and God knows how, was Bellamy stumbling out of the rocket and collapsing. She'd yelled at Echo to go to him, to wrap a tourniquet around his arm to stem the bleeding from the wound on his arm.

And behind Echo, as she knelt down, she'd seen a ghost.

A ghost who all but pushed Echo out of the way to scan Bellamy's arm, before noticing Raven and Emori laying on the ground just beyond him.

Harper watched, mouth dry, eyes wide, as Clarke gave a perfunctory tug to the bandage wrapped around Bellamy's arm, before pushing herself up and racing next to Raven. She still lay unconscious, but Monty and Echo had pulled the helmet and the top of her spacesuit off.

'What the hell happened?'

She got no response, of course. By the expression on Murphy and Monty's faces, they didn't have the first clue what to say when faced with the woman they'd thought long dead in a fiery storm of radiation. A woman they'd mourned, and then celebrated.

Not dead. Very much alive, and in front of them, ear pressed to Raven's chest to listen for her pulse. 'It's weak but it's there. Lungs are both working normally, if a little shallow …' She lifted her head, hands flittering up to stroke Raven's hair back. 'Head wound, it's not deep or threatening but it will need something just to hold it together.' She turned her head, blonde hair flying as Harper just watched in awe. 'Madi! I need the med kit preparing!'

Harper shook her head, trying to clear the fog from whatever injuries she'd sustained, and the shock of seeing her friend. 'There's bandages in the ship. And alcohol. For sterilisation.'

Clarke threw her a glance, a tiny smile on her lips. 'Great. Monty, do you mind fetching them? I only have a limited supply and you guys have a hell of a lot of injuries between you.' Her hands gently squeezed down Raven's arm. 'She's possibly broken her arm. Might be a fracture, might be a break, I can't tell. She'll need it in a splint.'

The same assessment for her legs, which were declared practically injury free except for a few bumps and bruises.

When she got to Emori, Harper had found enough energy to crawl her way across. Her leg, although sore, was just sprained; not broken like Monty had thought.

On opposing sides, they looked down at the Grounder, face tightened in a grimace of pain, sweat coating her features.

'I can't treat her here,' Clarke whispered, probing at the dislocated shoulder visible now that Murphy had yanked off her suit. 'Not really.' She glanced around her, and raised one hand to her ear. It was then Harper noticed the earpiece. 'Madi, I need to bring them back to the truck. Make sure there's space for three heavily injured, and four others with less serious injuries. I'm on my way to you.'

Monty glanced at her. 'What do you need us to do?'


	4. (IV) Clarke

**Clarke**

It wasn't that Clarke was afraid. She'd helped people with worse injuries, seen deaths caused by much, much worse.

But never with four people she counted as some of her closest friends once upon a time, and others she'd been just getting to know and like.

And if she was honest with herself, she was worried. The ship had landed at a very bad angle, and too fast. But knowing her friends, knowing Raven, they'd have put precautions in place. They'd have found a way to survive the fall.

Somehow.

So she'd sat. And she'd waited. Her rifle had been perched against her shoulder, the eyepiece magnifying her view from where she and Madi had hidden the truck. She'd watched the door to the rocket, waited for them to complete their measurements and check that the ground was safe.

Something they'd known if they'd gotten any of her messages.

When the door had opened, and Monty emerged supporting Harper, she'd begun to grow concerned. When Murphy and Echo then made their way outside with Emori, she knew she couldn't hang around any longer. They needed her, needed healing. Medicine.

She'd already been making her way through the rubble she and Madi were hiding in when Bellamy climbed out. When she saw him collapse, she'd doubled the pace and yelled back to Madi through their earpieces to stay where she was, prepare the truck for casualties.

Now, she knelt over Emori, trying to find the best way to move her without causing her any more pain than she was clearly in. She'd so far managed to avoid any questions from her friends, but she knew that the second Bellamy or Raven woke up, there would be no stopping, not even to save the others' lives.

Her decision was made in a moment as she looked down at her patient. 'Keep an eye on them for five minutes. I'm going to run back to the truck and bring it to you. I don't want to move them any further than I have to.' She pushed herself to her feet.

One glance at Monty, whose face was tight but relieved at the same time, and she couldn't help but grin at them. 'Hey, don't look at me so grimly. I'm not a walking corpse. Not yet. No matter what you guys thought.'

That broke the tension just enough for her to be able to turn and race back across the desolate land to the rubble she'd come from.

Madi was waiting at the edge of the truck, Clarke's medical bag in her hands. The little Nightblood asked no questions, merely climbed in the cab at Clarke's head tilt. As soon as she was situated behind the wheel, Clarke glanced towards her companion.

'They're in pretty bad shape, Madi, I should warn you now.' She kicked the truck into gear and spun the wheel for a hard turn. 'If you feel like getting squeamish at any point, just come hide back out in the cab, okay? I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with. Not yet.'

'I'll do my best.' Madi's voice was small, and Clarke suddenly remembered – she had seen no other living person in six years. She'd known only Clarke since she watched her parents die of radiation exposure at five years old.

Clarke stretched one hand out to lay on the girl's arm, still clutched protectively around Clarke's bag. 'I mean it. Don't feel you have to help them, okay?'

'They're friends. If they need help, I want to help them.' Madi threw a sideways glance at Clarke. 'They … they are friends, right? It's not another part of that ship?'

Clarke shook her head. 'No, it's not another part of that ship. This is the ship we were waiting for.' She pushed down on the accelerator. 'But they need some serious help. Help that I think we can give them, but we need to take them back home. We can't stay out for long.'

Silence ruled for the rest of the two minute truck ride, and as soon as they pulled up in front of the rocket, Clarke was jumping out of the cab, grabbing the bag Madi offered her. 'Open the back for them!' she called, and Madi jumped into action.

Clarke was back beside Emori within seconds, scavenging in her bag for the little morphine she'd found in the lab. Murphy didn't even question her, something Clarke made a mental note to file away for use some other time.

'Can you lift her?' Murphy nodded. 'Great. Get her in the back of the truck. There's blankets, there should be a few rolled up to use as a pillow.' Her hands closed on the vial of morphine, and with old, practiced ease, she slid a needle's worth into Emori's veins. 'Go.'

Spinning on her knees, she focused on Raven next. 'Monty, give me a hand with her?' Without waiting for an answer, she slid one arm under Raven's back, and used the other to lift Raven's arm around her neck. Monty mirrored her, grunting just slightly as he straightened with the extra weight.

'Echo, can you start getting Bellamy into a better position to lift him?' The grounder nodded, scuttling over to kneel at Bellamy's side. 'Harper, if you can, help him. If not, get into the truck. I'll be back in a moment.'

With even steps, she and Monty carried Raven to where Madi stood, eyes wide and blood drained from her face. A reassuring smile was all it took for her to snap out of it, however; she jumped into action, climbing into the truck bed herself to arrange a roll of blankets for a pillow and kicking some of their food supplies out of the way.

As soon as Raven was down, Clarke straightened again, about to turn to get back to Bellamy when she froze. 'Monty, why the hell didn't you say anything about your shoulder?'

The younger boy shook his head. 'It doesn't hurt right now. And the others are more important. I'll survive until the others are seen to.'

'God knows what you've hit, Monty! You're running on adrenaline right now, as soon as that wears off you'll feel that.' She glared at him. 'You, stay here. Don't you dare move. I'll sort you out in a minute.'

Ah, it had been a while since she'd had patients to boss about, and she'd be lying if some part of her didn't enjoy it.


	5. (V) Madi

**Madi**

Clarke was driving, navigating the rugged terrain with practice born of four years of trying to find any sort of food, water or companionship. The ship had landed about an hour's drive out of where they had forged a home, but they'd been out observing and restocking.

The prisoner ship hadn't appeared again, but Clarke never rested. And therefore, neither did Madi.

Being in the right place to be able to get to the smaller ship had been a stroke of luck, made possible by their trek to the least contaminated river for fresh water supplies, and to put some distance between where they'd last seen the ship and themselves.

Madi glanced over her shoulder to the crowded rear of the truck. The fierce grounder sat at the very back, closest to the flaps that they'd hastily secured. She had one knee bent up, and her head was resting on the arm she'd thrown over the joint.

The other grounder lay, quiet now, with her head in one of the Skaikru's laps – the thin, black haired one, who gently stroked her cheeks.

She'd never thought about living among the stars, preferring the safety of the ground over the images that Clarke had created in her mind. The stars, though beautiful, were things to be admired from a distance. Ways to guide travellers home.

How did they feel, having been torn from the ground by Praimfaya and then returned in such a violent fashion?

The other conscious female – Harper, she thought Clarke had said – was sat beside the pilot's head, but she had her own head leaning against the good shoulder of her companion. His other shoulder was still blooming gentle red around the metal embedded, but he had not complained. Would not complain, if Madi was reading his expression right.

The other passenger, the one with the curly hair, was still unconscious, but the bleeding had stopped. For now. She could only hope that they'd found enough coagulant in the various ruins of Trikru homes for all of them – and that they could get him some blood to replace that which he'd lost.

'How are you holding up?' Clarke called back, and Madi turned her gaze back to the front window as a chorus of grunts and sighs responded. She exhaled softly in relief. Madi could see the strain that the whole situation had caused her, those tight lines around her eyes that she hadn't seen in years.

Without really thinking about it, she stretched one small hand over and rested in on Clarke's arm in comfort. The older woman smiled, face relaxing just slightly. 'Yo bilaik fisa, Clarke, en emo yuj. They will be okay.'

'I know.' Clarke threw a quick glance at her. 'Let's just get back home and get them seen to.' She switched gears, and the truck jerked before picking up speed. 'Preferably before we're seen.' She navigated a turn, and then glanced in the mirror behind her to make sure that none of the injured were knocked too hard.

Madi bit her lip, suddenly shy as she realised that no matter how many pictures she'd seen, how many stories she'd heard, she didn't know any of the others in the truck with them. They were strangers, and the first people she'd seen in six years.

'Hey, Clarke?' The girl, Harper, had lifted her head and turned to look at Clarke over the back of the seat. Clarke merely tilted her head back in acknowledgement. 'How exactly are you here?'

'Nightblood. It worked. Eventually.' To anyone else, the clenching of her fingers on the steering wheel would have been invisible, but Madi couldn't miss it. Clarke didn't like talking about the days before they'd found one another, the days when, if she'd been anything like Madi, death would have been preferable to living. 'But I think it's probably best to save the best explanation for when everyone's awake. Save explaining multiple times.'

She manoeuvred another turn, and Monty whimpered slightly as he knocked his bad shoulder. Harper's attention was instantly diverted.

Madi couldn't help but notice Clarke's hands remained clenched the entire remainder of the journey.


	6. (VI) Raven

**Raven**

'Holy shit.' Everything _hurt_. If it were possible, she'd say that even her hair hurt.

Her right arm was stiff, resting on something rough. Had someone put a brace on her arm? Flexing her fingers confirmed it, and the reason why – flames flared up. A break?

'Raven!' Monty's voice was soft, and Raven turned her head towards him. Her eyes struggled to open, but she fought against the stickiness and the exhaustion. 'Thank God you're awake. We were worried.'

The darkness she finally saw wasn't the inside of her lids – there was darkness around her. Was it night? Her face must have relayed the question even without her being able to find her voice long enough to ask. 'Night's falling, and we're in a cave. There's some candles nearby … just …'

There was the sound of a rocks striking, to produce a spark, and then a small pinprick of light appeared by her feet. It wavered, and moved, and then two more appeared. And then more, until the entire cave was bathed in light.

Harper knelt there, the relief clear in her face. Monty was to her side, one arm held in a sling. Raven could just about make out the beginnings of a blood stain on his shoulder. 'It's good to see you awake, Raven.' Harper smiled at her, one hand resting on her right leg. 'You had us really worried for a bit there.'

'God …' Her voice was so croaky. 'How long …?'

'Just a few hours. Maybe … six? Seven?' Monty raised his hand to his face. 'I lost count after three. Too many injuries.'

'Where exactly are we?'

The couple exchanged a cryptic look. Raven frowned. 'I feel like I'm missing something here.'

'That's because you are.' Monty looked at her again, a smile growing on his face. 'I think it's probably best if we get you sat up before we show you.' He reached his good arm out, trying to slip it under Raven's back. Without success. Harper stepped in instead, supporting her against a wooden crate that someone had draped in a blanket that definitely felt like it had seen better days.

Biting back the pain that kept flaring up in her arm, Raven situated herself that little bit more comfortable. 'Where's everyone else?'

'Emori's still out of it. Murphy's with her.' Monty turned away, reaching for a metallic cup that someone had left against the wall. 'Echo's with Bellamy – he lost a lot of blood. He's not woken up again yet but there's no reason he won't. He's had a transfusion from the both of us to help replace what he lost.'

He handed her the cup, now filled with water. She reached for it desperately, but he held it back from her. 'The water's still irradiated. It's almost safe to drink, but you will start coughing up blood. We should be able to develop an immunity … but for now you'll need some anti-radiation pills.'

'And where the hell do you propose we get those?' It wasn't that she meant to be sarcastic, she just couldn't help it. Having once been in charge of medicinal supplies, she knew that not very many had been transported with them to the Ark. And that those few had been used up on Emori and Echo, not yet adapted to the every so subtle differences in radiation between the ground and space.

Another cryptic look between Monty and Harper, and then Harper held her hand out. She held a single pill. 'It won't stop you the first few times, but it's better to ingest it now,' she whispered, handing it over. It was then Raven noticed the tell-tale signs of blood on the corner of their mouths where they themselves had coughed it up.

'And where exactly did you get this?' She was full of the "where" questions tonight, but even that wasn't going to stop her taking it. She'd seen first-hand just how bad it could get, and anything that might mitigate it and help her develop an immunity to whatever level of radiation still clung to the waters? She'd take it without question.

It was only once she'd downed the cup Monty then handed to her that they started to answer her questions.

'We're in the caves not too far from the original dropship. What few supplies are in here are what were left untouched.' Harper lifted Raven's broken arm gingerly, checking the splint and the knots that held the fabric bindings together. 'Praimfaya didn't quite destroy the ship, but there were more than enough holes in it, punched by trees and rocks and bullets – and Murphy's explosion – that the inside got hit. What you see is all that was salvageable.'

'You had the time to salvage candles and crates in about six hours, with a wounded shoulder and God knows what other injuries?'

Harper tilted her head. 'We never said _we_ did the salvaging.'

The confusion in Raven's voice was clear. 'If not you, then who?'

'Clarke did.'

If any of them had had any sort of camera, she was sure that the face she made at those words would have been comedic enough to give laughs for years. The disbelief was clear for several seconds, then she shook her head.

'You hit your head, Harper. You must have. Clarke died six years ago, saving us from a horrible death in space.' Raven closed her eyes. 'We mourned her for months.'

'A bit prematurely, as it turns out.' New footsteps came closer. 'Good to see you awake, finally.'

The face was a bit thinner, a bit older; there were new lines around the eyes and the mouth. And the hair was shorter, with a big streak of red down one side.

But it was undeniably Clarke Griffin grinning down at her.

* * *

 **So just a bit of an explanation on the way this is set up:**

 **I have no specific character order, I'm just going with whichever characters make sense to be focused on at the time. There will be odd chapters from odd people - unless the story calls for it, I'm not expecting another Harper one. There might be a Monty one somewhere down the line, but we'll see when it comes to that.**

 **I'm going to try to update every 2-3 days, and try to give you 2 sections at a time, but I'm making no promises!**

 **Thanks for the support thus far :)**

 **Tears x**


	7. (VII) Clarke

**Clarke**

Raven hadn't said a word since Clarke had entered the room, just stared with wide, disbelieving eyes. She couldn't really blame her – if they hadn't crash landed, she was sure that she'd have had the same response to first seeing her friends again.

Even as Clarke prodded at the wound on her head, needle in one hand as she prepared to stitch, Raven stared. She didn't even flinch at the first pass of the needle through her skin.

It was only as Clarke rocked back on her heels that Raven spoke.

'Am I dead?'

A laugh she wasn't expected barked out of Clarke's mouth. 'Not unless I've become a lousy medic who somehow killed you with a needle.' She reached behind her for a bandage and some more fabric strips. 'You're lucky. Apart from your arm, Monty's shoulder, and Bellamy's arm, there aren't any serious injuries from the landing.'

'Murphy filled you in, huh?' Monty dropped his head against the wall. Clarke's joy faded as she nodded.

'I'm sorry I couldn't help you all.' Clarke's voice was subdued, respectful almost. Her fingers stilled against Raven's forehead. 'I wanted to. I tried.'

Raven swallowed, good hand clenching. 'Clarke,' she whispered, and just the pain in her voice, the grief, and the _relief_ – it set Clarke off. Ugly, broken sobs echoed against the walls, and her face was wet with salty tears that wouldn't stop.

It had been six years and three months since she'd seen her friends. Two thousand, two hundred and seventy seven days since they'd blasted off.

Two thousand, two hundred and seventy seven days since she'd known they were alive.

She'd spent the months before they left caring for them, for everyone – even if that care sometimes led to hard decisions and death. But she'd done her best. That's what she always did. That's how she was left behind, caring for them, saving them, turning the power back on so they could find salvation.

And saving them had meant there was nobody left to save her from herself.

She'd spent the first three months too busy being in pain. The next month had been the urge to contact them, someone, anyone.

Month five was when the loneliness had begun to sink in.

Month six was when she spent more time crying and yelling than doing anything to keep living. Month six was the month she had been willing to end it all, to leave them behind. Leave them safe, thinking she'd died quickly in Praimfaya. Never knowing that she'd struggled through, that they'd left her behind very much alive.

Month seven was the last time she'd cried.

Five and a half years of grief poured out of her, right there in that cave, with Raven pulling her awkwardly into a one-armed hug, Harper lying her head on her back, and Monty squeezing her hand.

It wasn't just her tears landing on the back of her hand. They were right there with her, and she knew they were crying out of stress, anger, confusion, grief. They were crying for her, and for themselves, and the situation they found themselves in.

With a shaky laugh, Clarke finally pulled away from their group hug a few minutes later. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to … anyway. Raven. Try not to use that arm too much, and give that head some time to heal, okay? Otherwise, you're good to go.'

'Thanks, doc.' Raven wiped at her wet cheeks. 'Where's the rest? How are they?'

'Emori's with Murphy. There's not much I can do for her with the supplies I've got.' She rubbed at her face, her sleeved arm wiping at the spots of blood and the sweat on her forehead. 'At first light, I'll head out. Try to scavenge a few more supplies.'

'And Bellamy?'

She schooled her expression into calm. 'The cave beyond. Echo's keeping an eye on him. He's still out but he should wake up soon.' At least, that was the hope. Her medical skills were a bit rusty, having had nobody but herself and Madi to patch up for the past six years – and neither of them had exactly sustained the sort of injuries that her friends had.

Raven smiled at her. 'Same old Princess, always in control and fixing us up.'


	8. (VIII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

He woke in complete darkness, Echo sleeping by his side. His mouth was dry, bitter, but his head was clearer. Sore, but clearer.

He'd managed to push himself to clumsy feet. It was too dark down here, and he needed the light. Needed to know he hadn't return to Earth just to be smothered by it. He needed the air, needed to feel the sun on his face, to know the heat of it.

Scraping his hand against the wall, Bellamy managed to stumble towards the opening of the room he was in. To his left, he could see candlelight flickering against one of the walls. Grimacing at the pain in his ankle, he decided it was as good a place to head as any.

He limped towards the light, narrowing his eyes as they adjusted. Where was everyone else? Echo had obviously been staying with him. Murphy would be with Emori – but where were they? Where was Raven, and Monty and Harper?

Shit, had they died while he'd been out? Had they been attacked, or had they had worse injuries than it seemed? They damn well better still be alive, or he'd bring them back just to kill them himself.

He was almost to the door the light was spilling out of now. Feeling slightly dizzy from the exertion, he paused before looking inside. What would he see?

For a moment, he indulged himself in the fantasy that they'd been captured, and this was a prison. But that would mean there were survivors on the ground who wanted them dead. It wouldn't be Wonkru – Octavia would have made sure that Wonkru knew exactly who they were, and would let no harm come to them.

Octavia. God, where was she? Where did they go when they opened the bunker door? Or were they still close to it, maybe even still living inside the bunker? He made a mental note to go hunt them down. Just as soon as he knew where his friends were, how they were.

And just as soon as his freaking arm and ankle healed up enough for him to be able to walk more than a few yards without being winded.

He sucked in a breath, before he turned the corner to look into the room the light was coming from.

Monty was leaning against the wall, eyes closed and breathing slow. Harper lay against him, looking more relaxed here than she had at any point during the six years on the ring.

He couldn't help but smile at the innocence and calm that had reappeared on their faces, expressions he'd not seen in a very long time. He struggled to turn his gaze away from them, but somehow managed.

Raven lay on the floor, right arm in a splint made of two wooden planks and some sort of bandages wrapped around them to hold them in place. Someone had stroked her hair back and wiped away the blood from her head wound. He could just make out small, neat stitches pulling the skin back together.

To her left lay a young girl, no more than twelve, curled with her head in the lap of another, just out of his view behind a box of God knew what.

Had they been found by people from the bunker?

His heart faltered for a moment. Was that … could that be Octavia?

He started moving before he was even aware of it, before his brain even had the chance to rationalise. It was only as he dropped to his knees behind the young girl, peering through the shadows at the face of the woman holding her, that the thought crossed his mind.

Octavia would not have left him unconscious with just Echo. She would have stayed by his side until he awoke – or at least, she wouldn't sleep in another room. She might visit them, check on them, but she wouldn't stay with them.

But then was Octavia still Octavia? It had been six years. She had changed into a brand new person in just a year, from the scared, shy girl on the dropship to the fierce warrior commanding the twelve clans.

What would six years of being cooped up with nearly twelve thousand others, most of them grounders, do to her?

The woman stirred, head turning from one side to the other as she came back into awareness. Bellamy caught himself praying that it would be her. That those familiar dark green eyes would open to meet his, and that wry smile that bordered on a smirk would form.

She woke, and he found himself looking not into Octavia's forest eyes, but into heart-breaking sky blue ones.

Instead of the smirk, he saw an honest, blinding smile that he'd only dreamed of for six years.

A face he'd last seen unknowingly headed to her death while saving the rest of them.

Time seemed to slow as they stared, drinking in each other's features as if to fill the long gap in their memory. His eyes roamed over the cleft in her chin, the small mole above her lip; the faint hint of a scar on the bridge of her nose, which he knew only because he'd seen the original wound.

Clarke was alive. She was sat in front of him, living, breathing, her cheeks flushed red with life he'd thought extinguished.

He broke the silence first. 'The Nightblood didn't work, huh?'

She rolled her eyes, but it didn't take the grin away. 'Neither did returning to the Ark.'

Her voice was just the same, the warm, friendly tone – the one she used when she wasn't shouting at him, or disagreeing with him, that was. Still ever so slightly gravelly, but gentle. Kind. It unlocked something in him he hadn't even realised had been hidden ever since they'd left Earth.

'You have no idea how good it is to see you alive, Clarke.' His voice was deep, filled with emotions he couldn't even begin to name. With his good arm, he reached out, but his fingers stopped just shy of her cheek.

Her expression gentled. 'I'm real, Bellamy. I'm alive, and I'm not going anywhere.' Her own hand raised, rested on the back of his. Her touch was warm, soft, affectionate, and when she tilted her head so her cheek met his palm, he was reduced almost to tears.

She was _real_. She was _there_ , in front of him.

She hadn't died to save them, to save him, when he wasn't even sure he was allowed to be saved after everything he'd done.

He had so much blood on his hands, but nothing felt as good as knowing he was free of hers. He'd dreamt of her for six long years, imagining the gruesome ways she could have died – drowning in her own blood; burning alive in the fires; smothered by the radiation; or ripped to no more than atoms on the breeze as she fell to the full wave of Praimfaya.

But she hadn't. She'd survived.

He could feel his eyes filling with tears that he refused to let drop. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered haggardly. 'We waited. As long as we could. Clarke, I'm so, so sorry.'

She nuzzled his hand. 'I know. And I'm sorry too, that I wasn't fast enough to get there and back. But I wanted you to go, Bellamy. I begged to see you leave, and when that rocket blasted, I was happy.' She nodded her head softly. 'So happy. Because it meant you had a _chance_.'

The first tear fell, burning down his cheek. Clarke's eyes trailed it, and he watched as her other hand lifted. Her fingertip was warm as she wiped it away. 'I forgive you, Bellamy. Again. I will _always_ forgive you for putting our people, our _friends_ , first. For thinking with both your head and your heart.'

A second, and then a third. Bellamy couldn't hold them back any longer. He tried to stay quiet, in respect for his sleeping friends, but he couldn't stop the tears.

Clarke shushed him, carefully manoeuvring around the little girl in her lap until she could pull Bellamy's head against her shoulder. One arm folded over his shoulder, and the other around his head, just holding him in place as he let his grief pour out of him.

It wasn't long until he fell asleep in her embrace, lulled by her gentle strokes and the soft humming.


	9. (IX) Madi

**Madi**

Bellamy had woken at some point in the night, and Echo followed him into the main chamber shortly after day break. Clarke had left at first light, easing the one called Bellamy to sleep on the ground and waking Madi to preparing the morning meal.

They didn't have much – they hadn't spent much time stocking this site, using it instead for brief stopovers in their journeys between other locations. What they did have, she divided into seven piles in preparation for the others to wake.

Harper was the first, following by Monty, who was disturbed by her movements. They moved wearily, the previous day's aches catching up to them fully now that they had time to rest.

Madi watched them with a critical eye. Clarke had reminded her that some injuries did not present in an obvious and timely way. Any sign of belated injuries, she was to put them straight back to their sick beds and summon Clarke the second she returned to new supplies and fresh food.

Raven followed not long after, grimacing as she forgot briefly about her arm and tried to put weight on it. Her yelp of pain roused Bellamy and Echo, both all but jumping into rusty battle stances. Madi flinched back against the wall.

'Sorry, sorry,' Raven called, raising her good hand in the air. 'I forgot about the crash for a minute there.'

The two relaxed, but just barely. Monty sighed, moving to help Raven to sit up against the crate. 'Glad to you finally came to your senses, Blake. Letting a scratch take you out …' She grinned over at him.

He grunted in response, gaze finally slowing as he looked back to her. 'Where's Clarke?'

The others looked around, as if just noticing her absence. Madi swallowed, glancing between them.

'She's on a supply run.' Her voice was timid, but they heard her. Five pairs of eyes turned to her. 'We needed some more fabric for bandages. And food. We needed more food.' She gestured to the piles in front of her.

Raven's eyes went wide. 'Breakfast! Oh my God, food that isn't algae.' She grinned, and made as if to pull herself across the floor.

Madi hurriedly swiped a pile into a little cloth bag, and carried it over to her. The others gathered around the table, collecting their own piles in eagerness.

'Clarke wanted me to remind you to take the radiation pills. To be safe.' She nodded towards another pile, alongside whatever they'd managed to salvage and use as cups. There were only four of them, the rest being punctured at some stage and unable to hold liquid.

Most faces grimaced, but Bellamy looked confused. She'd forgotten – he'd still been out of it when Clarke had explained to the others. She didn't fully understand the details behind it. She wasn't good with medicine – she was far better with gathering and discovering whether new food was safe to eat or not.

Fortunately, for her, Monty had grasped it as soon as it had been explained to him, and he relayed the information on to Bellamy. With his own grimace, he swallowed the pill. 'It's only temporary,' Raven reassured him. 'Clarke thinks we'll have some immunity already, thanks to the solar radiation that kept us alive when we first came down. The rest, we'll build.' She shrugged her good arm like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Madi smiled. 'Here, have your food. We have nuts and leaves from an edible plant.'

Monty's face paled. 'Nuts? Jobi nuts?' He dropped the one he'd been about to put in his mouth as if it was poisonous. 'Oh no, no no no no no.' He shook his head vehemently. 'Not again. I am _not_ eating any more pinecones.'

The expression on everyone's faces (except Raven, but Madi could see her biting her cheeks) was priceless. Harper raised one eyebrow, and Echo shifted forwards a little. 'What happened when you ate the nuts, Monty?'

He kept his lips shut, but Raven, managing to ignore the laughter, smirked. 'I seem to recall him bursting into Finn's tent, having argued with the moon. Didn't you want to change the tide, or something, and it wouldn't cooperate? And then ate a pinecone because it _told_ you to?'

Monty's expression was all the rest needed to know, and snorts and laughter echoed off the walls – even Madi joined in. She'd never personally eaten a jobi nut that had gone bad and caused any sort of reaction, but she'd heard of it when growing up.

That memory silenced her immediately. She rarely thought of her parents now, or of her clan. They were the past, but sometimes she still woke at night with their agonised screams, the awful retching, still bouncing around in her brain.

Clarke told her it was a form of PTSD, whatever that was, and that eventually it would either go away or she would learn to cope with it. And she had. She could cope now. Most of the time.

To her horror, she felt her eyes start to water. She couldn't cry here, she told herself; not in front of those who were effectively still strangers. Trying to push them back, she turned away from the members of Skaikru – and found the Azgedan watching her.

'Heya, gada, bilaik yo ait?' _Are you okay?_

Madi forced herself to nod, but not even the warrior was fooled. 'Foutaim?' _Before?_

Again, she nodded, and Echo moved closer. Conversation picked up around them, along with laughter and moans of relief as food that was not artificially grown for every meal was consumed. 'Ai nomon … ai nontu … ai sis …' The memories of her family flooded her mind. Her mother, long plait over one shoulder, smiling; her father, carrying the freshly chopped wood to keep their fire going; her older sister, laughing as she danced around with the other children her age, having fun.

All dead.

Her sister had gone first, but her death had been quick. She hadn't succumbed to the wave. She'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time during a hunting party, and the arrow had struck her straight through the heart. The guilty had been executed the following day. _Jus drein jus daun._

Her parents had died from the wave. Her mother, drowning in her own blood faster than her weakened lungs could cough it out. Her father, collapsing on the other side of the glass door, face red and inflamed with open wounds.

And then there'd been nothing. Nobody.

She hadn't emerged for a year, too scared to face whatever was outside. She and Clarke had eventually found one another, some divine intervention making their paths cross and ending their loneliness.

And now, Madi reflected as Echo's face showed sympathy, maybe she had more people to get to know, to befriend, and to make a new family with.


	10. (X) Clarke

**Clarke**

Mornings had become her favourite time of day.

Mornings meant new beginnings, the start of a new day full of promise. Clarke had counted nearly six hundred mornings inside the sterile walls of Becca's lab, too scared to spend more than a few minutes outside.

When she'd finally got that nerve, finally gone out before dawn and remained until dusk, she'd found peace.

Now, sat on the dropship ramp, watching the sunlight begin to filter through the trees around her, she found even more joy in the simple pleasures.

With this morning, with this new start, she could get to know her friends again. Find out what had happened to them in the six long years they'd been in space. Find out who they were now.

They were not the same people who had left her behind, she knew that. They couldn't be. It was too long a time to remain exactly the same.

Monty and Harper had remained together, that much was clear; since she'd unloaded the injured into the cave, they'd been practically inseparable, Harper grasping at his hands and Monty pulling her close. But she could see a tightness in his gaze that had not been there before, not really. A hesitance, almost, and a depth she'd not seen in him.

Jasper's death had hit him hard, but it hadn't truly sunk in during the chaos of survival. He would have dealt with his grief on the Ark, and it had clearly deeply affected him. Harper, too, she reflected. She was more open, and from the little she'd conversed with her, she seemed to look for the joys in life now. Every time thing to be appreciated.

Raven hadn't changed much, not that Clarke could tell yet. She was still sassy, still confident to the point of being cocky. Still amazing and loyal and one of the best friends a girl could wish for.

Echo, she'd had little time with. She'd helped bring Bellamy from the truck, and then helped support Harper on her sore leg, but she'd retreated into herself afterwards, staring at Clarke with an almost reverence. That had unnerved her a bit, but beyond that, she couldn't quite peg Echo's personality now. She hadn't truly pegged it before, if she was honest, except that she had been exceptionally loyal to Roan and to Azgeda. That would clearly have changed, but where would her loyalties now lie?

Murphy was vastly different. The rude, insufferable boy he'd been when they'd first landed on Earth had morphed in front of their eyes into a man capable of affection. Now, he was loyal and determined and would not leave Emori's side for anything. He had made no wisecracks about anything, not yet, and Clarke doubted he would.

Not until Emori was awake. Not until she was safe.

The trials she'd been told they'd gone through on the Ark ran through her mind. They would surely change a man beyond recognition. But there was nothing she could do for him. Not here. Not yet.

Her thoughts turned now to Bellamy. To his breakdown in her arms, realising she was alive. She hadn't cried, but she had been close. She had been afraid for him too. She had tried so hard to contact him, to know that he – that any of them – had survived.

She had called out to him every day for one thousand, six hundred and twelve days. She'd never missed a check in, not once she'd found that satellite and radio and paired them up.

She had needed to know that he'd changed, that he wasn't leading them with just his heart – that he was doing her bit, leading them with his head as well. As she'd begged him too, knowing somewhere deep down that luck was against them. That things would always go wrong, and something would happen.

Things never went right for them.

She wiped away the lone tear that escaped at that thought, and stared up into the leaves above her. They were brown, and curling, but they were stubbornly clinging to the trees even as a bit of a chill took to the air. It was well into December, but ever since Praimafaya, the seasons had been weird. Snow fell in February, and plants sprouted year round – the ones that had survived, had survived a wave of nuclear radiation. A frost wasn't going to kill them off anymore.

She bit her lip. The same could be said for her, and for Madi, she supposed. They'd survived the radiation, and everything that came with it – but they were mortal, they could die by a bullet or a blade without a moment's notice.

That turned her thoughts to the prison ship, the one she hadn't seen since it came to the ground on day two thousand, one hundred and ninety nine. Her last transmission to the Ark, for fear they were being overheard.

They'd been careful ever since, but there was no guarantee they wouldn't be found – and that the people inhabiting it wouldn't be hostile. That had been her fear. She hadn't wanted to expose Madi to any threatening people, wanting to keep her safe.

Motherly instinct for a child without a mother.

Speaking of … she roused herself, realising she'd come out not only for the medical supplies still in the dropship, but for replacement food. Berries, nuts, mushroom. Anything they knew was edible. She'd already picked the leaves of the red flower that they ate, and the bitter mushrooms they brewed into soups with some of the meat from the boars and panthers she took down on the rare occasion they found them.

It was the berries she wanted to make sure she got, though, and for that she needed to return to the graveyard.

She thought for a long minute. She and Madi had made a mission, when they had found and partially restored the Rover, to retrieve whatever was left of those who stayed behind in Arkadia and bury them in the dropship graveyard.

Especially Jasper.

It had taken them nearly a month to cart all the remains back – the fire hadn't gotten inside the remains of the Ark, so their bodies had been mostly intact – and then another week to dig all the graves.

She'd taught Madi their funeral prayer, and Madi had left little bundles of flowers on each grave. There'd been no markers. None of the dead had grave markers, and besides, she didn't know the names of every single person who'd chosen to take their own life instead of facing Praimfaya.

She'd buried Jasper with a bottle of Monty's moonshine just sticking out of the ground, and then she'd counted until she found Wells' grave and carefully wedged another one there. They were the two graves that mattered to her most, here.

There was others, to be sure, but here, her best friend and a boy she'd grown to love almost like a brother lay in their eternal rest.

She needed to bring Monty here, she realised. Give him some time, let him pray over his friend's grave. And then thank him for the life his death gave.

She'd been surprised to notice it, but a little after the vegetation had begun growing again, berry bushes had begun springing up over the graves of the recently buried. Bushes that, with the radiation, had mutated to grow quickly and often.

The berries were delicious. She couldn't quite place them. They looked like strawberries. Some bushes grew black, and they had a grape-like taste but very, very sweet. Some bushes grew blue, and they tasted more like apples – but with less sweetness. And then the green ones, they were a taste she'd never had before.

She and Madi had stripped them bare one day, intending to fill themselves on something that wasn't mushrooms or nuts, and then take the rest for sustenance on their journey to what was left of Polis. But Madi had come down with a version of the flu that evening, and they had ended up remaining at the dropship – where, they discovered after just four days, the berries had completely grown back.

They'd been amazed, but they hadn't touched them, and the berries never grow larger than two inches in diameter.

Clarke wanted to take some with her to the group, but she didn't want to disturb the graves until Monty had seen them. And she supposed the others would want to pay their respects too, eventually – but when they were well enough to walk.

With that thought in her mind, she made her way back to the cave entrance, and to her friends.


	11. (XI) Raven

**Raven**

Raven was the first to notice Clarke's return, and she let out a jubilant cheer. 'Clarke! Oh my God, you would not believe how good it is to have real food again!' She grinned, and then shut her mouth quickly when Clarke gave her a wry smile. 'What, do I have berry juice in my teeth or something? Dammit!'

She wiped furiously at her mouth with her good arm, smearing the remains of the berries over the tattered fabric of her shirt. They really needed new clothes – all of them. There had been some random bits of clothing left on the ring, but for the most part, they'd had to stick with what they'd gone up with.

She was about to voice her complaint to Clarke, begging her to say she knew where to get a supply, when Bellamy cleared his throat. She turned her neck sharply, heard it crack and winced at the small pain that shot down her spine.

'Now that most of us are awake – and I don't want to take John away from Emori – I think we need to ask the questions we want answers to.' He rolled his shoulders, stoically ignoring the pain Raven knew must have shot through his wounded arm.

Clarke sagged against the wall. 'You want to know about the Bunker. About Octavia.'

Six years on the ring had led Raven to learn Bellamy's smallest facial expressions – the tightening of his eyes and the ever so slight pursing of his lips as he nodded. 'Yes. We were aiming for as close to Polis as we could get, hoping that they'd still be lingering around there. Are they? Why aren't you with them?'

Raven turned her attention back to Clarke, and noticed that everyone had quieted as they waited for the answer.

Clarke sighed, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Blonde hair fell in front of her face, shielding her from view. 'It's … complicated, Bellamy. The Bunker doesn't know anything about me having never left Earth.'

'Wait, what? How?' Raven's forehead screwed up in confusion. 'Didn't you contact them at any point to tell them?'

'I tried.' Clarke's knees folded up to her chest. 'I found a radio in Becca's lab, and I managed to fix it. It took a while though before I started being able to pick up transmissions. I could hear _them_ , but whenever I tried to speak to them, they couldn't hear _me_.' Her shoulders lifted, and then dropped in a shrug.

A shadow of movement caught Raven's eye, and she watched as Madi slunk away from where Echo was knelt to instead sit beside Clarke. The child's gentle hand on her arm let some of the tension release. 'I haven't picked up anything from them in three hundred and eighty eight days. Thirteen months.'

'But they got out, they're on the ground?'

'Bellamy …' Raven could hear the strain in Clarke's voice, and shook her head as if in denial before Clarke even opened her mouth. 'I'm sorry. I don't know. We went to Polis after three years. To check on the bunker doors, that they were still sealed. And they are.' She nodded into her knees. 'They're sealed … by the entire tower that collapsed right on top of it.'

She knew, before she turned her head, that Bellamy's eyes would be wide and the colour would have begun to drain out of his face. And she was right, of course. She knew the ramifications of that just as surely as he did – and as everyone else as expressions turned disbelieving, then shocked, and then sad.

The Bunker would have struggled to survive much longer than five years. To survive six, under rubble … it would be a miracle if they survived.

None of them wanted to voice what she could see they were thinking. Radio silence from the Bunker could mean energy conservation …

Or it could mean there was nobody left down there to radio out.

* * *

 **A little late, and only the one chapter this time - lots happened this week so I'm a bit behind! Also, too good of a cliff hanger to ruin the suspense by a straight follow up.**


	12. (XII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'Octavia _is_ alive.' Bellamy stared across the small room at Clarke's huddled figure. 'They're all alive down there. I'm not going to give up on them.'

His hands tightened into fists. 'Is there any other salvageable equipment you've found? Anything we can use to dig them out?'

'Just the truck and the rover.' Her voice was small, and muffled against her knees. 'A lot of the tech got blown by the death wave, and what didn't, I can't make work properly.' One shoulder raised as if mocking herself. He dropped his head, thinking. 'And you guys couldn't hear me.'

His mind was racing with thoughts about how to adapt the rover – the truck probably wouldn't be suitable for largescale excavation – when Monty spoke up.

'Wait, what?'

Raven's voice joined in. 'You mean you radioed us?'

'Every single day.' His head jerked up in surprise. 'When nobody ever responded … I got afraid. I thought … I thought I didn't fix the satellite in time.'

His eyes narrowed at her. 'Clarke …' Raven shuffled in front of Bellamy's feet to sit instead next to the blonde. 'I'm so, so sorry. If I'd known you survived, that you were trying to get through …' Her voice trailed off into tears.

Bellamy watched as both girls broke down, and he felt the tightness in his throat at the thought of Clarke sat there, day after day, calling out to the stars in hope. Praying that it wasn't an empty hole in space.

He swallowed, hard, trying to force away the grief clawing its way back to him. His focus now couldn't be just Clarke – it had to be Octavia. He had to save his sister, somehow.

He eyed Monty, who was staring down at his hands as if lamenting their uselessness. They hadn't properly healed from the radiation burns he sustained preparing for Praimfaya, and with the limited medical knowledge they had between the seven of them, it had been agreed that he probably wouldn't regain the finer motor skills.

The ones that would have been needed to fix up the old radios, and the ones they needed now to fix up the vehicles to shift debris.

He closed his eyes against the sight of the sadness surrounding them.

Seven years ago, as the prisoners were loaded onto the dropship, who would have thought that this was how they'd end up? Most of them dead, few by radiation but the majority by other humans. The few that had survived, changed beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

And a lot of it, he could trace back to himself.

That stupid, _stupid_ radio. That had been the problem. If he hadn't stolen Raven's radio, hadn't forced the culling on the Ark … hadn't made it so the only way to prove to the Ark that the hundred had survived was to accidentally burn down a grounder village and incite their wrath …

But then, he realised, no matter what he'd done they'd have still come to the end result of Praimfaya – but more of them might well have died. There could have been none left, if they hadn't learned to work together in those crucial first few months.

'Clarke,' he whispered, almost choking on emotion. The woman in question wiped at the wetness spilling down her cheeks. 'How soon we can travel?'

He _had_ to focus on Octavia. Octavia. His sister. He shouldn't have to force himself this hard to bring her to the forefront of his mind. Shouldn't have to make her welfare fight against the woman in front of him.

She sniffed, and then pushed her hands down between her legs. 'You five? Maybe in a day or two. Once you've reacclimated to the ground. Murphy, too. But Emori …' She frowned. 'We could move her but without my mom, and the medical facilities the bunker has … I don't know if there's much I can do apart from keep her comfortable.'

He nodded, mulling it over. 'Then we keep her comfortable until we clear the rubble.'

'Or,' Clarke began, her eyes widening in thought. 'Bellamy, I know you want to go get Octavia right now, but let's face it – you'll need to get new equipment. And the best place to do that is Arkadia. Medical facilities are a bit burnt out, a bit empty – but there should be enough for me to stabilise her.'

In his peripheral, Bellamy noticed Monty and Harper's faces pale.

The Ark. Where Jasper and countless others had chosen to take their own lives instead of face the radiation.

Clarke seemed to notice this too, turning her head to them and seeming to carry on an internal debate with herself. Finally, she nodded.

'You know … you're not ready to travel, but a trip out of the cave to the dropship should be manageable.' She smiled at them all. 'This is one of the few places still green, and it escaped most of the fires. And Madi and I, well …'

She pushed herself to her feet, and the young girl stood with her, eagerness shining off of her face. 'We may have made it a bit more like home, even though we never stay here long. Come.'

Bellamy didn't need to be told twice. He was following her with big, although uneven, strides.

It barely took two minutes to reach a corner where he could see sunlight – real, honest to God sunlight – shining against the cave wall. His breath caught, and behind him, he heard Echo's small intake of breath.

Clarke turned to them all, a wondrous smile on her face. 'Welcome back to Earth.'

* * *

 **I'm that far behind at the moment it's going to have to be single chapter updates for a little while - but I *will* stick to my schedule of an update every 2-3 days. For now, any way.**

 **Since I keep forgetting to say it - thank you so so much for all the reviews, faves and follows so far. I've been out of the writing game for a while and it means a lot to me that so many people are enjoying my first foray back into fanfiction, and writing, in a long time.**


	13. (XIII) Monty

**Monty**

It was pretty much everything he remembered.

Of course, if he was being practical, he'd seen it the day before – but then he'd been delirious with pain, and focusing more on getting the others into a safe spot than observing the scenery around them.

Harper clutched his arm for support as she limped on a leg still sore from their abrupt landing, but they were barely moving anyway.

As soon as Clarke had led them outside, they'd come to a stop, breathing deeply. The air smelled of dirt and grass and flowers. Fresh. Pure. Unfiltered.

The sun was warm and gentle, flicking on and off his face as the wind rustled the leaves high above them. The wind that brought with it a chill that was sharper than air conditioning, but also strangely comfortable.

They soaked it in, some of the group with tears – and some collapsed to the ground, revelling in their return.

Echo had fallen to her knees almost the second she'd stepped outside, clearly thankful to be returning to the place she knew, the place she'd grown up. A life among the stars had been an impossibility until circumstances had forced it to happen – and she clearly wasn't truly built for it.

Raven had lowered herself slowly to sit on a fallen log, left leg stretched out in its brace as she tilted her head back, closed eyes towards the sky.

Bellamy stood, just beyond the cave entrance, eyes scanning the trees more out of habit than anything. Monty could see his mind was a million miles away. And probably seven years, too, remembering – much like he was – the days they'd spent in these trees, preparing for wars they had never wanted to fight.

Harper was laughing. He couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Yes, she had laughed on the ring, but never as freely as she did now. They'd carried the weight of the world – quite literally – back into space with them. And now they had descended, and found Clarke still alive and with another survivor, that weight had lifted.

He pulled her closer, arms going around her waist as she leaned herself against his chest. 'We made it,' she whispered, and he nodded into her hair. 'We made it back to the ground. Back home.'

'We did.' He kissed her head, and one hand shifted to grab at hers. Their fingers intertwined, and they stood, watching, listening–

'Where are the birds?' he asked Clarke as soon as he realised that there was no bird song. Not a single note broke through the air, and he could hear no rustling of wings taking flight.

She turned to him from where she'd been leaning against a tree trunk, just watching them all. The smile that had been on her lips faded. 'Gone. There hasn't been any bird call since I came out of the lab. I think they all fell to Praimfaya.'

Harper sighed, and Monty tightened his hold on her. 'Most of the wildlife is gone too. We've found a few boars and a few deer, but they're few and far between and we've seen nothing else.' Clarke plucked at a leaf hanging low on the tree she stood beside. 'We kill only when we have to for meat, and preserve as much as we can.'

'What about the rest of the world?' Raven still basked in the sunlight shining down on her. 'From the Ark it all looked dead.'

'Apart from here and a small patch near Arkadia? It is. That we've seen, anyway. There's more to the East I think – if you look hard enough, you can just about see the tops of some trees – but we haven't gone that far.' She ripped one side of the leaf off. Monty lowered his gaze, staring at the mossy ground beneath his feet. 'We didn't want to go too far from Polis. Just in case.'

He mulled that over, and the silence around him told him the others were doing the same. Clarke let them have their moments to enjoy the Earth again.

After several minutes that didn't seem long enough, she stepped forward and rested a hand lightly on Monty's arm. 'There's something I want to show you. For your sake, it's probably best to be alone.' Her voice was soft, and he glanced at her. Her eyes were downcast and gentle.

He shot Harper a look, and she just nodded and released her hold of him. 'Okay,' he replied, just as softly. 'Lead the way.'

They didn't go far – he didn't recognise the route as well as he should, with the new growth and the subtle changes to the landscape. It didn't surprise him to see the shell of the dropship though, when they crested a small hill.

'Madi and I went back to Arkadia,' Clarke whispered, leading him through the burnt remnants of the wall they had built so long ago. Only the metal poles and sheets remained, the wood having long since burned or rotted – he didn't know which, and if he were honest, didn't particularly care about it.

'Praimfaya didn't burn inside the ship.' She didn't take him into the dropship, instead following a well-worn path to just beyond it. Monty's breath caught. 'The bodies … they were still mostly intact.' She swallowed hard. 'It was only right to bring those in the hundred home.'

She stopped by the mounds he knew held those who had died in their original number – but there were more than he remembered. His brain raced, catching up with what Clarke was saying. 'You buried Jasper?'

She nodded, gesturing to the mound second from the left on the front row. 'I couldn't leave him there, Monty. Couldn't leave any of them there.' She bit her lip, and he gave her a small smile. 'Found a bottle of your moonshine too. Figured it was both a good way to make sure I could identify his grave for you, and kind of fitting.'

'That it is.' He took a hesitant step forward. 'Do you … could I …'

'Of course.' She didn't even need him to finish his sentence. 'I'll wait for you in the ship.'

As soon as she was gone, Monty approached the base of the mound she'd indicated was Jasper's burial site. He could see the neck of the moonshine bottle sticking out at a slight angle to the side. A thin layer of moss had grown around it, but the yellow lid was unmistakable.

He smiled in spite of himself. 'Guess in the absence of our weed that'll do just as good a job.' He knelt down at the base of the grave. 'Hope you're enjoying it on the other side, pal. God knows you need it.'

He didn't know how long he sat there, calling his mind back to the happier days – days before they'd been locked up, and the first few weeks on the ground. Before Mount Weather. Days when things had still been fairly normal for them.

He longed for those days to come back. For the innocence that they'd all lost to be returned to them.

In the still forest, he screamed.

* * *

 **I very much went "Yay Monty!" to "poor baby Monty" writing this chapter ...**

 **But I'm catching up again! You should get a view inside the Bunker in a handful of chapters. And the proper M content will kick in there too for a chapter or two. Just warning you now!**

 **And apparently I can't spell anymore, and Word is so used to my mistakes it's stopped correcting me ... I'm trying to edit as I find them but a few keep slipping through, I'm so sorry!**


	14. (XIV) Clarke

**Bonus upload! Yay!**

* * *

 **Clarke**

They ate over a campfire outside the dropship that night. Murphy and Echo had carried Emori from the caves. She was still unconscious, but Murphy swore that she began to stir as the fresh air swept over her face.

Clarke had her own thoughts about that, but chose not to share them. Instead, she directed Murphy to lay Emori out just beyond the dropship door. The curtain they'd set up all those years ago had long been torn down by scavengers – or burnt to a crisp, but Clarke was leaning more towards human theft. For one thing, even the hooks that had once held it in place had disappeared too.

The others set up camp where, seven years earlier, the delinquents had set up their main camp. Logs were found, and stacked in the optimal position for a long-burning fire. Echo generated enough heat to ignite the dry strands of grass Clarke and Madi stored just for that purpose. Harper helped carry over some of the preserved meat – just because there wasn't much didn't mean they couldn't feast for the very first night back on Earth that most of them were aware of.

Once the flames were going, and the food was sitting on a grill hobbled together out of wood and a grill form the dropship, the seven of them took their seats around the fire. Murphy sat closest to the dropship door, one ear always listening out for Emori. Harper and Monty sat together on his right, and Raven sat on his left. Echo sat a little ways behind them, still grateful to be back on the ground.

Bellamy took his seat beside Clarke, who had Madi knelt in front of her, leaning against her knee.

For a moment, as Clarke looked around at her friends, it felt almost like she was that naïve seventeen year old who had escaped almost guaranteed death twice over, to be one of the first hundred people to set foot on the Earth in ninety seven long years.

Almost.

There were new faces, and faces she longed to see again but never would. And then there were those who she prayed would one day be able to return, if only they could dig them out of the rubble.

Raven's voice brought her out of her silent reverie. 'Anyway, Clarke. You haven't told us the full story about how you're here. Nightblood, right? But the better question … what happened after you went off to the satellite?'

Clarke sighed, stroking her fingers through Madi's dark hair. She felt Bellamy tense up beside her. He was remembering, just as she was, their last parting. Knowing Monty was in trouble, but also knowing that if she didn't get to the satellite, all of them would be.

'The satellite wasn't in the right position.' She closed her eyes, and the memories flooded back. 'The signal wouldn't send until the satellite was aligned, but there was no way to do that from the ground. I had to manually realign it.'

'You had to climb?' Monty guessed softly, and Clarke nodded in his general direction.

'I didn't quite get it into position before you guys blasted off. I watched the rocket launch and I saw Praimfaya rage in the distance.' She bit her lip, trying to push that particular thought away. 'When I did get the satellite into position, the tablet you gave me cut out. I never even knew if the signal sent.'

Bellamy's warm hand clasped hers in a silent show of support. 'But I had to believe. And believing meant I had to live to meet you all again.' She turned her hand to her palm was resting against his, and her fingers tightened. Her other hand continued stroking Madi's hair.

Her eyes hadn't opened yet – she didn't want to see pity in any faces. Didn't want to watch them blame themselves for not waiting.

'I climbed down, and made my way back to the lab. It's not radiation proof, but it kept enough of it out. Kept me alive for long enough to weather the worst of the storms.' She shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

One hundred and ninety-nine days she'd been stuck in that lab, too afraid to go outside.

Ten days between the storms finally dying down and her having the confidence to pull open the laboratory doors.

But she didn't tell them that. She had chosen to keep that to herself; that, and the fact a fortnight before the storms finally calmed, she had been so very close to ending it. That she had held the gun so many times, thinking about it before she remembered why she absolutely _had_ to live.

Bellamy seemed to understand, as his hold on her fingers became borderline painful.

'After a few months, I crossed the ocean back here. Hid out in those caves, thinking they were the best sort of protection I could get if anything happened again. They kept out the acid fog, after all.' She opened her eyes at last, turning to Bellamy with a wry grin. She remembered him telling her that he and Charlotte had sheltered there the very first time they had come across Mount Weather's defence system.

'A year in, I found Madi in one of the old, family-owned bunkers. She was in a similar state – starving, scarred and still affected by the radiation, but alive. And from there, we just kept surviving. Found the rover. Found a portable satellite to link with the radio to try to get in touch with you guys. Went to Arkadia, and to Polis. Survived as best we could.'

She could see the pity she'd been trying to avoid in all the faces except Murphy's. Not that that was much of a surprise. 'Anyway, enough with the past. We need to start thinking about moving forward. Freeing those trapped in the Bunker.'

Her words spurred the others into action. Bellamy released her hand, and she was sorry to lose the heat. He nodded stiffly.

Food was shared between them, with Raven again loudly proclaiming her love for real food, and Harper laughing at Monty as he dug in with such ferocity the juices from the meat trickled down his chin.

Murphy barely touched his, too busy staring back into the illuminated dropship at Emori's prone form.

It was Echo who answered Clarke's unspoken question. 'Four months.'

Clarke started – she hadn't noticed the grounder move closer, never mind behind her. 'They'd only known for three weeks.' She lowered her head almost respectfully. 'Wanheda.'

'Please, Echo, it's just Clarke.' She waved away the woman's use of the title she'd rather forget. 'I haven't commanded death in a very long time, and I'd like to keep it that way.'

'You survived Praimfaya. That in itself would have earned you the title Wanheda, if you did not already carry it.' Her eyes were wide. 'You and the little Natblida. You are now, and forevermore, Wanhedas.'

Clarke scowled, but didn't reply. What could she say? No, she was not Commander of Death – but she had managed to hold off her own throughout radiation that had killed nearly every other living thing? And Madi too?

She chose instead to lean down to Madi's ear and whisper, 'It's time for you to sleep, little one.'

As expected, the girl started to protest, but then stopped when Clarke gave her what Madi referred to as The Smirk. The one she used when she told Madi that she would do something, Madi protested but then did it anyway – usually without realising.

This time it was Clarke's usual insistence that Madi always argued back about when to go to bed.

Echo noticed, and her own grin appeared. 'Go,' she whispered to the little girl. 'We will still be here tomorrow. Reshop, Madi kom Trishanakru.'

The girl lowered her head carefully. 'Reshop, Echo kom Azgeda.' She pushed herself to her feet, and with weary steps – Clarke _knew_ she was more tired than she'd been letting on – made her way inside the dropship.

'Her parents?' Echo asked softly, and Clarke shook her head.

'Killed by Praimfaya. She was five.' Clarke busied herself gathering up what little Madi had left from her dinner. 'Care for some more?'

The Grounder took it with a smile of gratitude.

* * *

 **I have written bunker scenes. I have written scenes that have made me cry and made me squee at the same time.**

 **I have written one of what I consider my best ever scenes. And in celebration of that, surprise bonus upload.**

 **Also I just rewatched 4x13 and yeah, big mistake. So I needed to share happy times.**


	15. (XV) Raven

**Raven**

They chatted and laughed and enjoyed each other's company and the openness of the Earth until they could barely keep their eyes open.

Minus the breaks where they'd stumble away from the others to cough up a little blood – but not as much as the day before, so either the tablets were working or their bodies were already adapting (or both) – they barely left Clarke alone.

Murphy left first, going to curl up beside Emori inside the dropship. Echo followed soon after, preferring to sleep just beyond what had once been the wall to their camp.

Harper fell asleep against Monty who, with Clarke's help, then moved her to lie in the padded moss just to the side of the dropship. He went with her not long after that, asleep within moments.

That left Bellamy and Raven, just as stubborn as the other in staying awake and absorbing as much time with their friend as they could. How she was able to stay awake, she had no idea. Her head had grown fuzzy with joy and the slightest hint of pain.

A thought was growing, too. One she was tempted to wait until the morning for, but screw it. If she wanted to stay awake she needed something to do.

'Hey, Clarke?' she asked, and the woman turned to her. 'Where's the radio you were using? I want to see if I can fiddle with it, find out why it wasn't working.' She massaged the top of her bad leg. 'No offense, but you really aren't an engineer.'

Clarke rolled her eyes half-heartedly. 'I did manage to fix up the rover _and_ the truck,' she reminded them, not quite indignantly. But she stood, making her way across to the rover anyway.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Raven turned to Bellamy, who was blinking hard to keep himself awake. With a gentle push, she secured his attention.

'You look like you're a universe away.'

He gave her a small smile. 'I'm worried about her. She's too … _happy_. That's not the Clarke I remember.'

'The Clarke we left behind had the weight of the world on her shoulders. The Clarke we've come back to is finally free of all that worry.' Raven laid her hand on his knee. 'Bellamy, she spent months hiding a terrible secret on the Ark. Then she saw her dad die, and was put into solitary for that same reason, before being sent on a practically guaranteed suicide mission. And on Earth, she took responsibility for the delinquents and fought for more than a year to keep as many as she could alive in the face of practically guaranteed death.'

Bellamy grunted, but Raven continued. 'She has spent six years finally free of making decisions no human should ever have to make – no decisions on who lives and who dies. For the first time since her dad found out about the oxygenation problem, Clarke didn't have to worry about keeping anyone else alive in the face of devastating odds. We were all self-sufficient.'

Raven squeezed his knee softly. 'You, though, Bellamy … you still had the six of us to lead on the ring. You still carry that weight.'

She could see the conflict race across his face, but couldn't give him any more answers as Clarke returned, radio in one hand and satellite in the other. Pulling her hand from Bellamy's knee, Raven gave her a smile.

'It's okay, I don't want to interrupt you,' Clarke murmured, carefully setting the equipment down. Bellamy shook his head.

'You didn't, Clarke.' He glanced in her direction and then away again. 'Should get some rest, guys.'

'I just want to fiddle with the radio for a bit,' Raven replied, grasping for it with her good hand. 'Just until my mind stops racing.'

Bellamy nodded, and turned his attention to Clarke. 'How about you?'

'I'm good for now. I'll keep an eye on her.' She smiled up at him as he stood. 'Night, Bellamy.'

Raven turned her attention away from them, trapping the radio between her knees as she picked at the backing. She was vaguely aware of Bellamy walking a short distance away, only to settle beside a tree stump about ten feet from them.

The back popped open, and Raven tossed it to the side. The wires inside were a bit of a mess, and she raised one eyebrow as she glanced up at Clarke. 'Jeez, could you have butchered it any more?'

Clarke sighed. 'Like you said, I'm no engineer. I'm surprised I got that thing picking up transmissions.'

Raven tugged some of the wires gently, trying to identify what went where and for what purpose. It barely took her a minute until she realised the problem.

'The reason no one could hear you, Clarke, is because you were never transmitting.' She tilted her head in a "come here" motion, and Clarke obliged. 'See here, you have these two wires?' She pointed, and Clarke nodded. 'In a normal radio, this wire would be soldered into the circuitry. It serves as a surge protector.'

She pointed now to the second wire, watching as confusion filled Clarke's face. 'This one should be connected to the speaker and to the same port as the surge protector. It's how our radios clean up transmission. Without it, there's too much static.'

'So they only got static?'

'No, they got _nothing_. The wire isn't properly connected to the speaker. Whatever you were saying wasn't converted into soundwaves, Clarke.' Raven looked at her, and she watched as understanding came across Clarke's face. 'You tried, though,' she said, trying to cheer the other woman up. 'I can see your work in this. You connected the right wires to the right spots to receive their transmissions.'

She gently placed the radio on the ground. 'In the morning, we'll patch it up. No problem.' She nudged Clarke's arm with her own, wincing when she realised it was her broken arm she used. 'You did good with what you got.'

* * *

 **I do not profess to being a mechanic or an engineer or understanding any basics ... but I figured since Clarke isn't shown** **to be all knowledgeable about it either, a slightly misconnected wire was a plausible explanation.**

 **One chapter after this and then we get inside the Bunker!**


	16. (XVI) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

They arrived at Arkadia four days later – long enough for them to stop throwing up blood (but Clarke still made them take the tablets to be safe), but not long enough for Emori to regain consciousness.

Clarke kept her hydrated to the best of her ability, but Bellamy was becoming more worried by the lack of food going in. Murphy was too, but he was saying little to anyone, turning all his attention to his partner.

Arkadia was a welcome relief, and as they got closer he could feel the restless energy coming from his friends. Raven was practically bouncing in her seat, desperate to see what tech had survived Praimfaya.

Bellamy almost smirked at her child-like behaviour, but the thought that Octavia was still in the Bunker in who knew what conditions kept running through his mind. He'd tried to keep it locked away until they had a chance to free them, but it proved futile.

He's pushed through the pain to regain as much use of his arm as he could. He hadn't gained full strength back yet, but he could put some pressure on it now. Clarke had yelled at him the first time she'd seen him, but he'd just given her a dark look and persisted.

She'd pretty much given up telling him what he couldn't do with his arm after that.

She glared at him now, as he used both arms to pull at the gate to Arkadia with support from Echo and Harper. It didn't take them long, since most of the mechanisms had been knocked out of place and a tree had fallen just to the side of the locks, taking out three of the connectors.

He ignored her, hiding the fire burning through the muscle of his arm when they finally let go, having pulled the gate far enough for Clarke to ease the truck through. He hurried back to the rover, following suit.

Once they were close enough to the ruins of the Ark, they pulled the vehicle to a stop and hopped back out. Bellamy swallowed hard looking up at the metal shell.

'We always end up back here, don't we?' he asked blandly. 'No matter how many times we get away.' First fleeing on the dropship (although he was the only one willingly on it … except for maybe Wells), and then finding refuge after burning hundreds of Grounders in one fell swoop. Finding the bunkers and patching up the Ark, only for it to be destroyed.

And then finally, fleeing to the only part of the Ark that remained in space.

What was the old saying from before the nuclear apocalypse? All roads lead to Rome or some ridiculous shit like that?

Well, from where he stood at that moment, it seemed all paths led to the Ark.

He busied himself taking the supplies they'd brought back from the dropship out of the truck and into the med bay and what had once been the main communal area.

Now, it was littered with debris – cups, papers, fragments of wood and metal. Anything that hadn't been bolted into place. And, he realised with some amusement as he thought that, some that had.

Dropping the bag Clarke had given him just inside the door, he turned to Echo. 'Mind giving me a hand cleaning this place up?'

'Sure.' They set to work, tossing anything that seemed useless into the corner furthest from the door until they could find a way to store or dispose of it.

It took them nearly an hour to move everything, and another twenty minutes to wipe the surfaces down with the sleeves of their shirts – God, he hoped that there were still some decent clothes somewhere in the Ark – before they were happy with the results.

By that time, Monty and Harper had divided some of the food out and carried it to them, with Madi's help. Bellamy gave her a soft smile as she handed him a cup of water. She was beginning to open up to them, but wasn't quite there yet. He couldn't blame her.

She reminded him of Octavia, devoid of contact with humans for years. At least, he rationalised, Madi had known her village for the first five years. She hadn't been completely locked away from the world, not like his sister.

He took a seat at what had once been the bar, limbs suddenly tired and heavy. He hadn't slept right since Clarke told him about Polis, and the Bunker.

Or, rather, he hadn't slept right since the night before they'd found Farm Station's beacon in the hands of Azgeda. That three month break between Mount Weather and the beginning of the A.L.I.E. crisis had been a godsend. He just wished it had lasted a hell of a lot longer.

Once they dug out their friends. Once Octavia was safe … then, then he would allow himself to relax.

He was pulled from his musing by Harper jumping out of her seat and racing out the room, Monty close behind her. Down the corridor, he could hear shouting – Murphy's voice louder than the others.

'I don't give a fuck!' he was yelling. 'Let me in there – I swear to _God_ , Harper, if you don't let me go you _will_ regret it!'

Bellamy was on his feet in a second, hand automatically flying to his side to check the holster he hadn't carried in six years. He didn't dwell on its absence, however, as he gave Madi a quick order to stay put before following the voices.

He turned the corner to med bay, where Harper was holding Murphy around the middle to keep him from getting past her. Monty was trying (and failing) to hold on to his arms as more expletives fell from his mouth.

Through the open doors, he could hear Clarke barking orders to someone, likely Raven, but didn't look any further. Instead, he took over from Monty, and with a glance at Harper, nudged her out of the way so he could secure his grip on Murphy.

The other man growled at him. 'Let go of me, Blake. I need to get in there – get the _fuck_ off of me!' He kicked out, and Bellamy grunted as Murphy's boot connected with his knee, but he didn't lessen his grip.

If Clarke was shouting orders, and Harper and Monty were restraining Murphy, there was no way in hell Bellamy was letting him loose until Clarke said it was okay.

'I'm sorry, John, but you'll have to wait,' he growled back, tightening his hold as Murphy attempted to tug his arms free again. 'When Clarke says you can go in, _then_ I'll let you go.'

'So help me Blake, if _anything_ happens to Emori when I'm not in there …' The threat hung in the air, but Bellamy didn't need him to finish it. They'd heard enough of his cursing over the past several months, ever since Emori's accident.

Harper was the voice of reason. 'Clarke won't let anything happen to her, Murphy. She has more knowledge than the rest of us, remember?' She gave him a weak smile, and Bellamy bit his lip as Murphy's thrashing caught the healing wound through his arm. 'Until we can get to Abby and Jackson, Emori can't be in any better hands than she is right now.'

Murphy sagged, his weight suddenly becoming heavy. Bellamy gasped in surprise and pain as his arm was suddenly pulled, and Harper was there, grabbing one of Murphy's arms to sling over her neck.

His face was wet, and Bellamy's heart hurt for him. Emori had become everything to him, and every day for the past year he had risked losing her, just as he had lost his mother and his father.

Clarke's orders slowed, and Bellamy resisted the urge to stick his head through the doors to see what was happening, but he could hear the clunk of Raven's brace as she moved back and forth across the room to gather the supplies as they were requested. He could only hope that the quiet meant Clarke had stabilised Emori, and that soon enough, she would let Murphy in.

Bellamy's attention turned back to his friend, who had now slumped to sit on the floor, knees raised and face pressed into them as he choked back tears.

This was a side to Murphy he hadn't truly realised existed until a year before, and he prayed every day that his torment would be over soon enough so he was never put in this position again.

* * *

 **Those of you asking in the reviews about Emori's state - all will become clear soon enough, don't worry. Raven's next chapter gives a brief explanation, and there will be a chapter from either Murphy or Emori's POV down the line which will explain everything - I have a few more chapters in the Bunker to write before I get there though.**

 **And you've been lucky for a few days, with a chapter per day! This will slow down again - yes I am several chapters ahead in writing now, but I'm getting to the harder stuff where I can't just bang out five chapters a night. And, obviously, Monday means the start of a work week.**

 **But next chapter is Octavia's POV in the Bunker! (Finally!)**

 **To those of you enjoying the story - each and every favourite and follow and review means so so much to me, and I appreciate them all. Please keep them coming!**

 **Tears x**


	17. (XVII) Octavia

**Octavia**

Abby's gentle hands were warm against Octavia's clammy cheeks.

She was sat against the wall in the medical bay's private room, eyes closed and cheeks pale, cursing out their whole situation. Abby had found her just a few minutes before, when she came to restock their preciously pitiful amount of morphine.

Octavia could not show weakness in front of her people. Yet the sickness had crept up on her, as it had so many others, and she could only seek refuge where nobody was likely to go.

She should have expected Abby to find her quickly, though. That was a talent the doctor seemed to have picked up over the years they'd been forced together. Of course, it was usually a case of Abby finding her to give bad news Octavia didn't want to hear, but right now Octavia didn't care about that.

She was more concerned with fighting off the fever that had already killed thirty eight people and left another sixty three on death's door.

'How bad is it, doc?' Her voice was scratchy, lips dry. Lack of sufficient drinking water and a throat that felt like sandpaper had turned her usually gravelly voice even deeper. Unrecognisable to her.

Abby's fingers stilled, and Octavia managed a small smirk. 'That bad, huh.' She swallowed, turning her head to the side. 'They can't see me like this.'

'They know you're just as human as they are.'

Octavia shook her head. 'Most of them still don't respect me properly. They _can't_ see me like this.' Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted, trying to pull Abby in to focus. 'Marcus … I need to see Kane.'

Abby's hands slid down to grasp at Octavia's wrists. 'I'll get him for you. Please, let me get you into a bed first, though.' She tugged, still gentle, but insistent. Octavia suppressed a sigh and went with it.

She'd learnt that when Abby Griffin told you to do something, you did it if you wanted her to shut up.

Like mother, like daughter.

But she _was_ grateful to feel the soft padding of a mattress underneath her. She'd spent the better part of a year sleeping wherever she could, whenever she could.

Finding the doors to the bunker sealed by what they presumed was rubble from Polis had not gone down well with anybody, and the majority of their ire was turned to their leader. Octavia had worked night and day with Kane and Indra at her side, trying to find a way out – and a way to combat their dwindling supplies.

They may just scrape it to seven years, if they were lucky, but nobody wanted to get that far.

The door to the room opened, and Octavia realised she'd dosed off in her musings as Kane entered, face grave.

'God, why is everyone looking at me like I'm already dead?' Octavia would have rolled her eyes if she felt she had the strength. She settled instead for a sigh as Kane perched himself on the bed beside her.

'Abby said you asked for me?' His eyes took her in critically as she nodded her head ever so slightly. 'What can I do?'

'We need a way _out_ , Kane. Before this sickness kills anyone else.' Abby had explained it to her – with most of their air recycled, any illness like this would never die down, and would just keep getting worse and worse. 'Indra's plan, with that one last turbine … I think we should do it.'

'Are you nuts? Octavia, if we take out that turbine to try and find a way out, there's no guarantee we'll get enough air to keep everyone alive long enough to get out.' Kane shook his head. 'No. I'm vetoing that plan.'

Octavia laughed weakly. 'Good job then that I'm the Commander, not you.' She pushed herself up with what little strength she had. 'Kane, we _need_ to get back to the surface. This is the only way. If someone can get up there, we can start sending the healthy out too. And then someone can go and find Bellamy and Clarke and get them to hurry their asses up digging us out.'

Kane was still shaking his head. 'No. I'm not risking our air supply on a chance.'

'We're back on the Ark, Kane.' Octavia inhaled deeply, face scrunching in pain. 'We need a plan. If we don't try, everyone will die.'

'And if we do try, everyone could still die because there would be no fresh air coming through at all.' He was being stubborn. Well, that was their thing. 'Are you really wanting that?'

'Kane …'

He pinched the bridge of his nose just as the door opened again, and Abby returned with a small medical tray in her hand. Octavia eyed it hesitantly. 'Jaha's working on the radio now. He's going to divert a bit more power to it, cast a larger net out. If Bellamy and Clarke are out there, we should pick them up and be able to talk to them.'

'Or we could just go find them.' She was beginning to feel dizzy, and her arms gave way as she fell back against the bed.

'Let's save that for after Jaha tries the radio, okay?' Kane looked thoughtful, and a bit scared, as Abby fussed over Octavia again, this time with a damp rag. 'One week. If we don't get a transmission to them in one week, we'll try the turbine.'

Octavia started to reply, but was interrupted by the cough that rose unbidden from her chest. Her mouth filled with liquid, and Abby was instantly there, one hand under her back to tilt her on her side. Kane jumped up to help.

' _It starts with an ache deep in the bones. Then, it becomes a fever – the body realises it's a virus that it needs to fight. At this stage, we can stop it with no ill effects. If we don't pick it up, the lungs start to fill with mucus and blood. We still have a chance, but it's slim. Two weeks, at the most. Then the patient's airways close up.'_

She could recall Abby's every word. Two weeks, if she was lucky. If she didn't fight this off.

'Kane,' she whispered, when her lungs were empty and painful and sore. She held one hand out to him, and he grasped it with both of his warm ones. 'Three days.'

He nodded, raising her hand to his lips. Pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, he agreed with a pained, 'Three days.'


	18. (XVIII) Raven

**Raven**

She stood over Emori, holding the discarded scalpel Clarke had handed to her ten minutes before. Her eyes were downcast as she looked at the Grounder on the table in front of them.

She was still breathing, but only just. Clarke had made sure of that before she did anything else. The pipe she'd stuck in her lungs was helping – at least, Raven thought it was. She'd never had a reason to doubt Clarke's medical expertise before, bullet to the spine notwithstanding.

Beyond the doors, she could hear Murphy's broken sobs, and Harper's soft voice as she reassured him. Raven had to bite her lips not to shout out anything to them.

Truth was, although Harper was reassuring Murphy that Emori would be okay, Raven wasn't so sure. Not when she was looking at Clarke's grim face as her fingers twisted in Emori's stomach, trying to find the elusive fragment of metal that had healed over and grown infected.

Echo carefully stroked Emori's hair back from her face, eyes shining with tears. It had come as no surprise to anyone that the two Grounders had grown close while in space, sharing their amazement at how far they had – literally – come. Frikdreina and Gona. Mutant and warrior.

Besides Murphy, Echo was the one who was hurt the most by Emori's accident and subsequent illness.

Casting aside the scalpel – Clarke didn't need it right now – Raven reached over to rest her hand lightly on Echo's arm. 'Hey,' she whispered, and the warrior looked over at her. 'It's okay. You don't have to be here if it's too hard.'

'I want to be here,' she replied just as softly. 'She needs me right now.'

Clarke turned her attention away from Emori's stomach for a moment to smile at Echo. 'You're doing good. She'll appreciate it when she wakes.'

Raven didn't want to think it, but couldn't help herself. _If_ she wakes.

Truth was, since Emori had fallen into that shelf of scraps, she'd nearly died so many times. IT was mostly Murphy's determination not to lose her that kept her alive.

If only his determination had saved the child too.

Raven hadn't been there, had been too busy fixing up the damage the ring had taken from the unexpected asteroid shower – not much, thankfully, but enough that she needed to don a spacesuit just in case anything went vastly wrong as she tested all the connections on the side of the ring Emori and Murphy had inhabited.

But she remembered the crying when she finally returned to them, Harper shaking in Monty's arms, Echo slumped against the wall with her head held in bloody hands, Bellamy stood with his jaw tight and eyes glistening.

They'd thought then, that she wouldn't make it through the night. They didn't have any true medical personnel on board, not with Clarke left behind on Earth.

Emori had pulled through then, and the night after, and each night after that until they were finally confident she could make it back down to Earth safely.

And now she was crashing again, as Clarke resumed her hunt for the pocket of metal and infection slowly poisoning her blood.

Clarke's fingers froze, and her eyes went wide. 'Found it,' she murmured, and gestured towards the long scissors lying haphazardly near where Raven had tossed the scalpel. 'Need to cut it out and drain it.'

Raven grabbed them and handed them over instantly, then turned to grab a pen discarded on one of the surfaces. They had no tubing – the best they could do was use a pen with the core removed. Using her teeth to unscrew it, she tugged the ink out of the centre and then held it ready.

She couldn't bring herself to look as Clarke twisted the scissors inside the incision in Emori's stomach. It was only when she heard the distinct sound of metal clinking against metal she turned her head back to Clarke, and held her hand out ready to exchange materials.

'Harper!' Clarke called, and there was the sound of four pairs of feet clattering to stand before there were two very masculine grunts – Murphy being held back by either Monty or Bellamy, Raven assumed as Harper ducked inside. 'Can you get me two bowls – fill one with water – and some rags? Madi should be able to find some fairly clean ones.'

Harper nodded, and vanished again as Raven felt Clarke hand over the scissors. 'I can't drain it until we have something to drain it into,' she explained, jaw clenched. 'Echo, I'm going to need some thread and a needle from my med kit. It should still be in the truck. Do you mind?'

The Grounder shook her head, and with a last gentle caress to Emori's forehead, hurried after Harper.

Raven levelled her gaze at Clarke. 'There's more to draining the wound, isn't there?' she asked, and Clarke's eyes met hers.

'It's an interim measure,' she admitted. 'The infection needs draining. But that's not what's causing her the pain. I think – and I can't be sure based on the location – there's another metal fragment, and that the landing knocked it into a position that's made her like this.' She chewed her lip, as Raven had seen her do countless times when considering obstacles she wasn't sure how to overcome. 'I don't know if it's in her spine or not. I don't know if it's against a blood vessel – but I think it's likely. I need my mom. I need her help.'

One hand gently rubbed over Emori's stomach. 'I've also never had to treat a trauma-induced miscarriage and any complications arising from that. So that's not helping me.'

Raven glanced down at Emori's still face. The drugs Clarke had given her were good, but they were scarce and, in certain doses, deadly. They were treading a fine line without medical expertise.

'As soon as we're done here, I can see if my old radio rig still works. See if we can send a signal to Polis from here, hope someone can pick up.'

Clarke nodded. 'Yeah, good. We need that. If you can get my mom on the radio, I can try to help Emori here. If not, we need to get a move on with finding a way to shift that rubble and get her out. Think you can do it?'

Raven gave her a small smile. 'Are you doubting my ability to get my own tech working, Griffin?'

The tension broke briefly as both girls started to laugh.


	19. (XIX) Clarke

**Clarke**

They didn't get hold of anyone in Polis that night, or the next. There was no response to their radio calls, so Raven set up a loop in case they only had certain times allocated to listening out for them.

Clarke spent as much time as she could making sure Emori was comfortable in the med bay – any morphine she'd found, Emori got. Murphy barely left her side, always clutching one of her hands to his chest.

The third day, as Clarke stepped inside med bay with a fresh bandage for the incision site, Murphy was just sitting back down from one of his brief breaks to the bathroom. He spared Clarke a cursory glance, then took Emori's hand with one of his, and raised the other to rest against her cheek.

'She's not getting any better,' he murmured, and Clarke approached cautiously.

'I told you, I can keep her stable – keep her alive – but I can't cure her by myself.' She placed her bundle on the table softly. 'But you can rest assured, Murphy, I am doing _everything_ I can that doesn't put her at any more risk, and the second we get my mother out of the bunker, we'll treat her again.'

She could see the muscles in his throat working, and placed her hand carefully on his shoulder. He jerked slightly at the unexpected contact. 'She's a fighter. This won't take her out that easily, not now that she's back on the ground.'

'She better not.' Murphy lifted Emori's hand to his face, holding it tightly. Clarke slid away, back round to the side of the table she needed to quickly change out the bandage. 'Hey, Clarke?'

She looked up – that was the first time Murphy had addressed her by name since he'd landed. Murphy's head turned so he could meet her eyes. 'Thank you.'

She gave him a small smile and a nod, and turned to leave him alone. He needed his time with Emori.

She needed to find Raven, anyway, and check on how the modifications to the rover were coming along. Monty and Raven had drawn up a rough plan for an attachment that could drag heavy rubble around, and had set Echo and Harper to work shaping the metal they needed.

They'd found a job for Madi, too, which thrilled Clarke. The youngster was responsible for ensuring the flames kept going, warming up the smaller fragments of metal until they were pliable; she was also responsible for ensuring the pails of cold water stayed filled and cold.

Unseen by her friends, Clarke paused just inside the hangar bay doors. Raven was overseeing Echo and Harper, while Monty and Bellamy were carefully shaping the smaller metal fragments – Monty holding it in place, and Bellamy swinging the hammer with his good arm (and, she was irritated to note, a few times with his bad one).

It wouldn't be the best digger, but it was a hell of a lot better than no digger.

She smiled, soaking in the moment, watching her friends live on Earth once again. Knowing the ground was inhabited by more than just herself and Madi.

They looked happy, too. She watched their camaraderie, the subtle jokes between them as they worked in a near flawless pattern. Raven would give orders, Monty would translate into non-genius speak, Bellamy would delegate, and the others would obey. If one person needed a tool, another would grab it and hand it over without ever disrupting their work.

And there Clarke stood, no longer a part of their jokes and their work flow.

An outsider.

She could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes, and had to step back before anyone noticed her so she could wipe at her cheeks. With deep breaths, she reminded herself – she was an outsider because she saved them.

The only way to understand their jokes, was to have condemned them – and herself – to death.

They were alive, and she could deal with being out the outskirts. Hell, she'd done it before – the goody two shoes, the Princess, at the dropship camp. Nobody had really included her then, not until the Grounders.

Emotion back under control with those thoughts, she wiped at her cheeks, removing any evidence of tears.

She was about to step outside and join her friends when the buzz of static on the radio caught her attention. She paused, tilting her head to the side.

Were her ears playing tricks on her?

The next few seconds were tense, and then the static broke. '-sage, Raven, please answer.' She couldn't make out the owner of the voice – the radio was that little bit too far away, that little bit too fuzzy – but that was definitely a voice calling out.

Her steps were small, hesitant, and as she crossed the hangar bay the voice came again. 'Raven, can you hear me?'

Kane. That was Kane's voice. She could make it out now, and her pace sped up. She swung herself around the side of the radio rig, hand grasping for the transmitter. There was no time for hesitation.

Her finger pressed down on the transmitter. 'Kane? Kane, it's Clarke.'

There was a long pause, and she doubted herself – had she imagined the whole thing? Was she that desperate for them to be okay, she'd imagined hearing them call out? She prayed to every deity she could think of that that was not true.

Someone must have been listening; a second later, she got a reply. 'Clarke, thank God you're okay. Is everyone else with you?'

She nearly sobbed with relief. 'Yeah, yeah, we're all here. We're alive. And we know that you're stuck underground – Polis collapsed on the Bunker.' She closed her eyes, dropping her head. 'We're trying to fix up a way to dig you guys out.'

'That's what we thought, but we had no idea. We've been trying to come up with ways to get out for the past year.' Kane's voice was soft, and she could hear even over the transmission, that it was full of relief. From knowing they were alive, or from knowing they were coming to save them?

The question Clarke wanted to know more than anything came without much prompting. 'Kane … Kane, is my mom okay?'

Another long pause. Another chance for anxiety to kick in. Clarke's breath caught as the seconds ticked past. The knuckles on her free hand turned white.

It was as Bellamy wandered in, rubbing the wound in his arm – she so needed to kick his ass for using it – that Kane finally answered.

'She's okay, but she won't be for long. There's a virus going round down here. We've already got a hundred down with it, and nearly fifty dead, across all the clans. Sooner or later, being around them up, she's bound to pick it up.'

Bellamy paused, eyes going wide as his mind caught up. Clarke gave him a hesitant smile as she thought over Kane's words. She barely heard him call the others inside.

'Who have we lost?' she whispered into the handset, hoping – make that _praying_ – that there would be no familiar names.

'Not many Skaikru. I think for the most part, we're immune thanks to our vaccines. But we have lost four. And we have three currently sick.'

Bellamy strode over, carefully stretching one hand out. Clarke hesitated for only a moment before handing it over to him.

'Kane, how's Octavia?'

'Bellamy?' Kane's voice was little more than a whisper. 'She's one of the ones who's come down with the illness.'

Clarke watched, chewing on her lower lip as Bellamy's expression faltered. His voice was surprisingly strong when he continued, however. 'Is she alive?'

'For now. Abby's keeping a close eye on her.' He paused, and Clarke noted Bellamy's chin tighten and his eyes narrow. 'We're doing absolutely everything that we can. We're not willing to just let her die – let any of them die. Not if we can help it.'

Bellamy lifted his hand, ready to reply; then paused, deep in thought. Clarke lay one hand carefully on his arm. She could see the fight warring in his mind, the need to run and get to Polis and dig his sister out _that instant_ and the more logical side, the one that told him he needed to stay and build the only thing that _could_ dig her out.

He closed his eyes, and Clarke rubbed her fingers lightly on his arm. 'How long does she have?'

Yet another hesitation. That couldn't be good news.

'Nobody else has made it past two weeks from the fever starting. We think Octavia's on day four – she didn't tell anyone when it started, but she's not as far gone as those who've had it a week. Not yet.'

'So you're saying I have about ten days to get my sister out to save her life.' Not a question, but a statement, and Clarke could hear the despair he was trying so hard to mask. Kane knew this too, for there was no answer over the radio. 'Kane. You tell Abby to keep Octavia alive, and we will get you out before the end of the ten days.'

He dropped the radio, and without looking at Clarke – or at any of their friends – stormed away.

She didn't follow him straight away.


	20. (XX) Kane

**Kane**

The radio call seemed to both last forever, and barely a minute.

It was their first contact with any of the kids since they'd gone to space. Truth be told, they'd all begun to worry when one year, then two and three, passed with no word from them.

It had been a risky move and they'd all feared it had backfired. But to hear Clarke's voice, to hear Bellamy and Raven …

New hope bloomed in Kane's chest as he powered the equipment down after promising to get back to them the following day.

The kids were alive, and they were coming.

He pushed himself to his feet, already planning to seek out Abby and Octavia. They needed to know. He needed to share his hope with them.

It wasn't until he was halfway to Medical that he realised he was grinning for the first time in nearly two years. It hurt his cheeks a little, but he couldn't stop himself.

Octavia was asleep when he stepped into her room, and Abby was carefully wiping a wet rag over her forehead. She didn't look up as he approached, focusing instead on her patient. As always.

'She's stopped coughing up blood. It's the best sign we've had from any of them.' Abby's voice was detached, clinical. 'She's doing well, but she still has a tough fight ahead of her.' She glanced at him, and then back down, seemingly without noticing his joy.

'Abby.' Kane ducked his head, trying to seek out her eyes. It was almost deliberate, the way she avoided his gaze. Until ... 'Abby, I made radio contact.'

Her head snapped up, and her hands paused in their ministrations. 'You mean … Clarke?'

Kane nodded. 'And Bellamy, and Raven. And they say they have all the others too.' His grin grew, something he hadn't realised was possible. 'The kids made it. _Again_.'

Abby slumped to the floor, face disbelieving. Kane rounded the table to kneel beside her, pulling her into his arms without a second thought. 'I can't believe it,' she whispered, hands rising to cover her mouth. 'They survived … oh my God, they survived?'

He pressed a kiss to her head. 'They survived, and they are coming for us. Clarke said they're working on a way to shift the rubble.' He rubbed her arm with his warm hand reassuringly. 'Abby, we're going to be out of here soon enough. Back on the ground.'

She pressed her face into his neck, her body shaking with silent sobs.

On the bed, Octavia stirred, coughing dryly. Abby pulled away from Kane's embrace, wiping at her cheeks while trying not to laugh in relief.

'What's so funny?' Octavia's voice was weak, and Kane smiled at her. 'You're too happy.' Her voice would have been suspicious if there were any effort in it.

'Today's day three, Octavia.' He shuffled to the bed, grasping at her limp hand. 'And I just made contact with Bellamy. He's coming for you. He's working on a way to get us out.'

The hope he felt in his chest, the one he'd just shared with Abby, spread to Octavia. Her eyes brightened, and colour returned to her cheeks. 'You just have to fight and hold on until he gets here, okay?'

She nodded, and for a moment, he could see the little girl she had once been – the girl who looked forward to her brother returning to their cramped quarters, eager for company. Innocence he'd never seen her wear was suddenly obvious again.

'Well then,' she whispered, voice scratchy with emotion. 'I guess we're trying your method of survival.'

* * *

 **Really short bridge chapter back in the Bunker here.**

 **I'm going to schedule my updates from now on, so I know when to update. The time of day may vary (but will typically be later in the day ... work and all) but will be on the below days unless major things happen or I'm feeling especially nice (like today, which wasn't originally planned!):**

 **Sunday**

 **Tuesday**

 **Thursday**

 **Friday**

 **So basically, end of the week becomes a double upload, yay! I'm currently on the 17th chapter ahead of this one, so you've got at least a month's worth of content on this schedule.**

 **This has turned out a lot longer than I planned but I'm enjoying every minute of writing it.**

 **And again, I want to thank you all for the reviews, the favourites and the follows. Each time I see it pop up in my inbox I feel a surge of excitement and motivation and it's really been helping me get through the tougher chapters.**

 **See you Tuesday!**

 **Tears x**


	21. (XXI) Bellamy

**I have no regrets.**

* * *

 **Bellamy**

Bellamy found himself in the room he had occupied once, years before. His stuff was long gone – some repurposed by Jasper's group, some burnt in Ilian's attempt to destroy the Ark, some just vanished to places unknown – but he still felt at home in this room.

The comfort wasn't enough, though.

Octavia was dying, and he wasn't there. His sister, his responsibility. He'd left her in the bunker, chosen to go up to space and leave her on a planet that was filled with deadly radiation …

The echo of his fist against the metal wall of his room reached his ears before the pain ricocheted up his arm. A second, then a third and a fourth punch – by the fifth, his hand was covered in blood, numb and aching. A match to the wound in his arm, throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He yelled, he continued to punch, and then he just gave up. Collapsed to his knees next to the dent he'd made, ignoring the blood running down the wall and the blood welling out of the gashes across his knuckles.

He needed that pain. Needed an outlet. Six years in space, six years of not knowing _anything_ , only to come back to find out his sister was about to die …

The floor took his wrath this time, smears of red painting an ugly abstract picture in front of him.

That was how Clarke found him ten minutes later, surrounded by smatterings of his own blood, cradling the surely broken knuckles of his hand against his chest, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

She didn't question, didn't judge; she just knelt beside him, already pulling bandages from the small pocket of her jacket. He didn't protest when she tugged his hand towards her, carefully wiping away what she could with one rag and then wrapping his knuckles tightly with a second piece.

She was infinitely gentle, amazingly calm. The perfect opposite to him.

'You always were the logical one,' he whispered, voice heavy with grief. 'Even knowing that they're dying down there, you're calm.'

She glanced up at him, still holding his hand with both of hers. 'I've spent the last year thinking they were already dead. I'm calm because I'm relieved they're not.' She shrugged, casting her gaze back down to his hand. 'Octavia's strong. She doesn't give up. Look at everything she's been through to get to this stage. A virus isn't going to take her out that easily.'

He swallowed, staring at her. He knew, in the rational part of his mind, that she was right. But it was Octavia. His sister. The main reason he got through the last six years - the main reason he'd lived for twenty-three.

It seemed like only yesterday he was holding her, a forbidden newborn baby, calming her. Protecting her.

And now she was under the floor again, as she had been for sixteen years before. But this time, he wasn't with her.

This time, he'd been hundreds of thousands of miles away, unable to get in touch with her. Unable to reassure her, unable to comfort her in any way. Unable to see with his own eyes that she was okay, to call her out on her bullshit when she needed the truth.

'I'm failing her again, Clarke.' His voice was broken. 'Not only did I leave her, I didn't come back in time. And now … now she's dying, and I'm not there with her.'

His eyes slid closed. 'You know, when I found out they were sending you all down to Earth without even knowing if it was safe, I thought I had to protect her. That she couldn't survive without me. And look what she became – the leader of the Grounders, respected by an entire people. A powerful, brave young woman.' He shook his head. 'She never needed me.'

'That's not true.' Clarke tightened her grip momentarily. At his wince, she let go and instead placed her hands on his shoulder. 'Bellamy, she has _always_ needed you. You were the reminder of her past, of where she came from. You reminded her of her humanity.'

He looked at her then, through a film of tears. Her image flickered a few times until he blinked the moisture away. 'If I'm not with her, what's she become?'

She looked at him sadly. 'I don't know,' she replied truthfully. 'But no matter what, she would have carried you in her heart. There is no way she would forget you, and what you taught her.' She gave him a smile. 'She'd have questioned every little thing she did, to see if it would have been something you would have done. Made sure she remembered you, kept your memory alive even though she didn't know whether you were or not – but she would have prayed every day that you were.'

They weren't talking about Octavia anymore.

He looked down at his damaged hand. 'I can't go through it again, Clarke. I can't do it. I've already lost the people I care about more times than I can remember.' He licked his lips, stared at the bandage already turning pink as his blood seeped through. 'It would break me.'

'That's what makes you strong, Bellamy.' His eyes flicked back up to her. She was smiling softly, and her own eyes were filled with tears. He couldn't look, and looked back down at his hand. 'You care for people, sometimes to your own detriment. You're willing to die for everyone.'

That made him look up again, in time to see the first tear spill down her cheek. He traced its path. 'You live to keep them alive. You fight, to keep them from fighting. _You bear it so they don't have to_.'

He started to shake his head, to deny her; but her hands slid up to grip his cheeks and hold his head firmly in place. 'Octavia will survive. Her faith in you will keep her going. Just like –'

She cut herself off suddenly, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. He tilted his head, as much as he could.

He knew what the end of her sentence was.

If anybody had asked him later on, he wouldn't be able to tell them who made the next move, who bridged the distance between them. They just came together. Opposites, attracting one another. The brain and the heart, suddenly working in conjunction with the same desires.

The kiss was messy. Urgent, needy, emotional. Their tears mingled as Clarke's arms wrapped around his neck, holding herself against him as his arms wrapped around her back, tugging her close.

It was a battle, as all things between them were. The power constantly switched between them, giving and taking and _offering_.

His hands slid lower, settling behind her thighs, and he adjusted her against him. He felt more than heard the moan she released into his mouth, one he echoed as she wrapped her legs around him. Pulled herself closer, then used her hands to tug at the bottom of his shirt.

She did most of the undressing, and they barely broke the contact of their lips. Desperation reigned. He needed her, needed to feel something good. Not painful. Not sad. Something pure. Hopeful.

They didn't even make it up off the floor. Needy hands stroked, bodies flushing with warmth long since forgotten. Softness and firmness coming together.

Again and again and again.


	22. (XXII) Clarke

**Clarke**

His lips branded her. His hands burned her.

Everything about him was _fire_.

Clarke couldn't slow down even if she wanted to. The need for him, for human contact, for the pleasure spiralling deep inside her, was too intense to consider a different pace.

She gasped into his mouth, lips barely moving now. His arms were wrapped around her, left hand splayed at the base of her spine, right hand just below her neck. Holding her close, closer than they'd ever been.

She wasn't complaining.

Her mind raced, a million miles a minute, but no thought stayed long enough except one – _Bellamy_.

In that moment, he was everything. _They_ were everything. Infinite.

His warmth filled her, his presence enveloped her. She couldn't see anything but Bellamy. Couldn't hear anything but his ragged breaths and gentle moans. Couldn't feel anything but what he was building inside her.

Every touch formed a path, joining together in a delicious cacophony of emotion and pain and pleasure.

She tried to whisper his name, but she couldn't form even that; she could only let out a gasp, a groan, a quick breath of excitement. All sounds absorbed by his mouth, and echoed back to her.

Six years. She'd gone six years without the company of another human, and it showed now. It showed in the clumsiness of her pace, the aching between her thighs. The scratches she left on Bellamy's shoulders as her fingers tightened, nails scraping away the skin.

Had he waited six years? That the only other thought to come to her was of his sex life on the ring was a disappointment, but not enough to detract from the moment. Whether he had or not, the skill he showed in that moment, even as desperate as he was …

It was the oh-so-deliberate circling of his hips that undid her.

She tore her mouth from his, biting her lip to stifle herself. But even that wasn't enough – she rocked forward, burying her face into the crook of his neck. There, she was muffled, but there was no denying the soft scream of pleasure.

She could feel him, feel the way he warmed her insides as he found his own release, and noted that he'd followed her lead. His dark curls, damp with sweat, pressed against her cheek as his nose skimmed the skin of her neck.

Without a word, hands still tight around her, he pulled her down to lie on the floor with him. She went willingly, mind still unable to form any coherent thoughts.

His skin was flushed, and she found herself dragging the pads of her fingers across his collarbone. Confirming that he was here, that he was very much alive. That she wasn't dreaming this whole thing.

For the past week, she'd expected to wake up in the Rover, back in the forest, waiting for a sign that they were alive. She'd convinced herself several times that she shouldn't be allowed the joy of being reunited with her friends.

She had too much blood on her hands to catch a break that lucky.

But she had. And right now, his body softening and slowly disconnecting from hers, Bellamy proved that to her.

She inhaled deeply, eyes sliding shut. Sleep threatened to take her, nested as she was against his firm chest, his good arm pillowed beneath her head. His breathing was evening out, and his grip was slowly slackening.

Would it be so bad of her to stay there? To fall asleep beside him – to wake up later, and try to find happiness?

Her heart said no.

Her head said yes.

Her head told her that she didn't deserve it, especially not while Emori was in their med bay, slowly deteriorating; not while Octavia was buried beneath the ground, with little chance of living beyond ten days. Not while they didn't know if any of their other friends were still alive – Miller, Jackson …

She tried not to analyse the regret she felt as she slid out of Bellamy's embrace. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a regular pattern. The creases on his forehead had evened out, and she could swear he had a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

The sweat cooling on her skin made the room feel colder than it was, and she hurried back into her clothes, wincing at the pull in her legs as she climbed back into her trousers. It had been so long since she'd used any of those muscles – something like seven years, if she counted the time before Praimfaya correctly – and her body had forgotten how to properly compensate.

Securing her jacket, she cast her gaze about the room, landing at last on one of the bright orange blankets she vaguely recalled finding with Bellamy when they'd set out for weapons not long after first landing.

God, that had been so long ago. They'd been different people then.

Biting back the memories, she carefully lifted the blanket and batted the dust off. It wasn't the cleanest, but it would have to do for now. She certainly couldn't lug him to the bed without waking him, and she didn't want to disturb the peace on his face.

She draped it over him, trying and failing miserably to keep it out of the drying blood on the floor from where he'd taken his frustration out. She'd have to remember that, come back later with some cleaning things to take up as much as she could.

She'd just laid her hand on the door when his ragged voice spoke up.

'I'm sorry.'

She turned her head to look at him. He had pushed himself up onto his elbows, and his dark eyes were focused on her. 'This isn't what I wanted.'

Denial shot through her, followed by grief – for what, she wasn't sure. Rationale soon followed.

'It was a moment of weakness. You were upset about Octavia. I understand.' She nodded bravely at him. 'It's okay. Get some rest – I'll go keep an eye on how the modifications are coming along. When you get up in a bit, come find me and I'll take another look at those knuckles.'

She gave him a tight smile, before noticing those lines that had smoothed out had now returned, and his jaw tensed. That tiny muscle on the left fluttered.

But he didn't say anything else, just nodded back at her, eyes suddenly a million miles away.

She let herself out, and once she was sure the door was shut behind her, let out the tears she'd been holding.

She didn't want to analyse those, either.

* * *

 **Yeah, I just did that to you. Sorry!**

 **I'm running out of chapter titles! I've never been great at them, but it wasn't supposed to be a problem - I hadn't planned for 22 (and more!) chapters in this fic! It's run away with me but it's coming out oh so well!**


	23. (XXIII) Octavia

**Octavia**

'It's been two fucking days.' Octavia glared across the room at Kane, who sat fiddling with the portable radio Jaha had whipped up for him. 'You're telling me you haven't spoken to Bellamy in two fucking days?'

Kane didn't answer her, and Octavia inhaled sharply. She was still in Medical, in the room to the side that few people used, but every day she was fighting the illness.

They'd lost another thirty in the past day. Among them, three of her advisors – the ambassadors from Delfikru, Sankru and Yujleda. Eighty-three new cases had come forward in the past two days – amongst those, the heads of Boudalan and Trishanakru, along with Gaia.

'This illness is _killing_ us, Kane, and Bellamy's taking too long. We need to get outside now. The quarantine is having no effect.' She watched him. She could see the tightening in his eyes, but otherwise, he showed no response. ' _Kane_. If we don't get outside soon … we may be forced to do something nobody wants to do. Not again.'

'We're not having another culling.' His voice was firm. 'No. I will not endorse another one.'

'You wouldn't have to decide who lives and who dies this time, though. We've already got all the candidates. All the sick.'

He lifted his head, and sent a levelled look at her. 'As long as you're among the sick, we're not even entertaining the idea of a culling.'

'Yes, we are.' She raised one eyebrow. 'Or do you openly defy me? Would you rather wait until I die from this, and we have another hundred cases?' She cocked her head to the side. 'The longer we wait, the more widespread this gets. The more people get sick.'

He swallowed. She could see the war within him. 'Raven promised she would get the vehicles modified –'

'I don't give a damn what Raven said!' The clang from where Octavia's hands had hit the metal frame of the bed resounded in the room. Kane's eyes were wide. 'She's not down here with _us_. She's not sick. She's not watching her people die, knowing she can do _nothing_ about it.'

He carefully laid down the radio, and she could see him taking a deep breath. She felt no guilt over her words. He had to have known this was coming.

'No. She's not,' he said finally. 'But she _is_ working on a way to get us out. She has the smartest mind out there. She and Monty will find a way, and Bellamy will make sure it's done.'

Octavia was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. 'We can't wait for them. I gave you time. We're running out of it. We need to use the turbine plan.' When he began to protest, she raised one weak hand. 'We take out the turbine, and we send the healthy out to the ground. Now we know for a fact it's survivable, they stand a chance.'

At the second opening of his mouth to interrupt her, she glared at him again. 'Those of us who are sick will stay until they can get the rubble cleared. If we run out of air in the meantime … then we run out of air. But we _have_ to give the healthy a chance.'

'I am not leaving you here to die, Octavia.'

'You're not staying here to die with me.'

Hazel stared into green, neither willing to back down. The tension in the room built, as did the frustration. Kane was stubborn – but Octavia knew, he wasn't quite as stubborn as she was. He would cave eventually.

But if she wanted him to cave faster …

Not entirely faking it, she let her body launch into a fit of spasms as she coughed. She had been fighting it back for several minutes, but knowing that Kane was likely to break led her to exaggerate them slightly.

Predictably, he jumped from his chair and raced to her side, one hand gentle under her chin to make sure she was able to breathe. Always ready to turn her head to the side to spit out any fluid that had built in her lungs.

She hadn't coughed up blood in three days, but they all knew that was no relief. That could mean anything, and stop at any time – as Kane was obviously wary of now.

She waved him away. 'If you – if you keep coming close …' She trailed off, finishing her exaggerated coughing fit. 'You'll get infected. And you can't.' She glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes. His face was torn. 'If anything happens to me, Skaikru needs you.'

' _Nothing_ is happening to you.' God, why did he sound like Bellamy?

'I need to talk to Indra.' She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 'We're doing the turbine plan. And you are going to be the first one out there.'

He started to shake his head, but she raised hers, a shaky hand pushing back the braids that had fallen across her face. 'They'll need leadership up there. You're the best to provide that. You'll manage, as will the remaining ambassadors and heads. Then we'll start to send a few from each clan – an even amount in a cycle – until all the healthy are on the ground.'

'And what happens to you and the other sick?'

She gave him a wry smile. 'We stay with the medical supplies until we either die, or Abby and Jackson find a cure and save us. Gaia knows enough to keep us alive for a while, until she gets too sick. And when she does …'

There was no satisfactory end to her sentence.

* * *

 **I'm just going to say to hell with it for the chapter titles. I don't have the mind power anymore! Too much drama and emotion in the scenes I've been working on today!**


	24. (XXIV) Kane

**Kane**

As much as he hated to admit it, the turbine plan was a solid one.

At least, as far as getting the healthy to the ground. There was always the risk that the lack of air being sent through would create a problem, but with their numbers of healthy people rapidly dwindling, it shouldn't cause too much of a problem for them.

And the last one out could try to fix up the turbine behind them.

Jaha had already volunteered when Kane shared the plan with him and the other high-ranking officials who hadn't yet fallen sick. There were murmurs of dissent, to be sure, especially when he shared just how long Octavia herself had been ill – but they had unanimously backed the plan.

Save those who could be saved. Come back for those who had less of a chance.

And so the work began.

As Jaha and several of the Grounders he'd trained in engineering began analysing the turbine and the best way to climb out through it without taking it fully out of commission, Kane sought out Abby.

She'd long finished in Medical for the night, and had left Octavia to sleep, so he wasn't surprised to see her in her room for the first time in days.

She was sat on the edge of the bed, head in her hands. Hair she'd chopped short in defiance just after they closed the Bunker doors had finally grown back to its original length, and now curled around her arms. Her fingers tangled at the roots.

'Abby.' His voice was gentle, but she didn't move. 'I guess Octavia filled you in.'

Her shoulders lifted, and then dropped, in a semblance of a shrug. He dropped his gaze, hovering near the door.

It still felt awkward between them. He'd made the very conscious decision to save her life, regardless of her desires – and she had hated him for it for a long time.

Two years they'd gone with only the minimal pleasantries.

Two years of agony for him, seeing the woman he loved so close, and not being able to touch her.

When she finally began to forgive him, she hadn't let him back in fully. Something inside her had broken when he let one of their friends die to save her, and he wasn't sure if she'd ever get over it.

Even now, after four years, she kept herself closed off from him. The only true emotion he'd seen from her had been just after the radio call. When she allowed herself a moment of weakness, knowing that her daughter was still alive.

He slumped back against the door, keeping the distance between them. It didn't feel right, going and sitting beside her.

'You're the first out?'

He nodded, and then, because Abby hadn't raised her head, murmured, 'Yes. That's what Octavia decided.'

'Good.' Her tone was clipped. 'They need you up there.' She seemed to mull over her next words. 'I'm not going.'

He was back on his feet in an instant. 'Abby, what –'

'I will not leave my patients to die alone.' Her tone was defiant, and she finally lifted her head. Her eyes were hard. 'And this time, you won't be knocking me out with gas and forcing me to do something I don't want to.'

His stomach tightened, and he sucked in a breath. 'How many times do I need to apologise for that? You wouldn't really have done any different, if it were Clarke, would you?'

'Don't you dare drag Clarke into this discussion.' She glared at him. 'I would respect my daughter's wishes, even if I didn't agree with them. I wouldn't be a selfish as to keep her alive for my own benefit.'

He had a rebuke to that, one he didn't want to voice. But anger swept over him, anger so intense it blew away his control.

'So you wouldn't smash the goddamn radiation chamber that could save everyone, just so Clarke wouldn't be in danger?'

She pushed herself off the bed, closing the distance between them in two large steps. 'That was _nothing_ like keeping me inside the Bunker, and you know it.'

They'd had this discussion before, just once, when she'd first come to after the gas. He didn't want to rehash it. Shaking his head at her, he turned away, running one hand through his hair as he pulled his anger back under control.

He hated lashing out at her. Hated the feeling of guilt that rose from it.

'I won't force you back to the ground,' he finally whispered. 'But Abby … there is a chance at life. And if you want to see Clarke again …'

'She'll understand.' He could hear the strain in Abby's voice. 'Clarke's all about putting her people first. Her friends. She'll understand why I can't leave my patients.'

 _But will she be okay with not seeing her mother after six long years?_

He kept that question to himself. 'Will you at least keep the radio on and near you? So we can radio you when we finally clear the rubble?'

He heard her sit back down on the bed heavily. 'I'll keep it in Medical,' she agreed at last. 'But I won't be sat by it every minute of every day you're on the ground. I will make the patients my priority.'

'I wouldn't expect anything else.' He spared her a glance over his shoulder. 'But I have faith that we'll get you out not long after we're out. Raven will come through with the Rover modifications, and with the extra manpower on the ground we should be able to move the rubble by hand if we need to.'

'And then come to me to patch up your broken bones?' Was that almost a joke she was making? 'We'll see.'

He hovered, hesitantly. 'Jaha's trying to get the turbine open tomorrow. Tonight could well be the last night down here …'

He heard the bed creak, and held his breath. Soft hands came around to rest against his stomach, and her head fit against his back. 'I know,' she whispered.

This was another facet to their new relationship – they still sought each other's company out, but it wasn't the same as it had been before. This was a way to relieve the urges, but the commitment they'd once been working towards was gone.

Kane mourned the loss of the relationship as it had been, but consoled himself with knowing that he still had a part of Abby nobody else did.

A part he lost himself in for what he feared could be the very last time.


	25. (XXV) Octavia

**Octavia**

Jaha had set up the video link Octavia had requested, and she stared at the screen in front of her as the image flickered on.

He had connected her to the turbine room, where she could see the last turbine they had slowly rotating. The others were still blocked by the debris of Polis, useless to them.

'Bellamy?' she asked, lifting the radio transmitter into her hand. The static crackled loudly.

'I'm here.' Her brother's voice was strong, and she smiled weakly. 'We've almost finished the modifications. We'll be leaving Arkadia and on our way to you by nightfall.'

She nodded to herself. 'Jaha's about to take the turbine down. When you get here, you should meet Kane and a delegation from each clan on the ground.' Her fingers flicked the switch in front of her, and she turned her orders to Jaha. 'Do it.'

On screen, she watched as his dark head lowered briefly in acknowledgement before he set to his task.

'Make sure they're careful.' Clarke's voice came over the radio now, always pragmatic. 'They haven't seen natural sunlight in six years – their eyes will take some time to adjust.'

'I'll tell them before Kane starts climbing,' Octavia promised, eyes narrowing at the screen. 'Clarke …'

She'd sat in on the radio call Kane had made to Arkadia earlier that morning, and he'd held back Abby's decision then. Clarke didn't know her mother didn't plan to leave the Bunker until the doors were opened.

'What is it, Octavia?'

'Nothing. Sorry. Lost in thought.' Her eyes flicked to another screen – the one showing the entry to Medical. Jackson was stood there, arm around a member of Trikru – Ashi, she thought his name was – in reassurance. As she'd left, mask carefully in place to stop her passing on any germs, his elder sister was admitted as the latest patient.

She had a feeling the girl wouldn't make it through the night.

'Hey, Bell?' Octavia turned her attention back to Jaha's camera, watching as the turbines came to a complete stop.

'Yeah, O?'

'Hurry.'

There was a long pause on the radio, and she feared for a moment that the connection had cut out again – that, like six years ago, she'd lost contact with him without warning.

But then his voice came back on, tight with emotion. 'We're coming for you. Stay alive.'

She didn't need to tell him goodbye, just lifted her finger from the button and gently placed the handset down.

Kane was stood in the doorway, watching her, and she raised her eyebrows at him. 'What?'

'Are you really sure you want to do this?' he asked, again. She just nodded. 'It's not too late to change your mind, Octavia.'

'I do what I need to for my people to survive, Kane.' She shook her head. 'That means taking out the turbine and sending you to the ground. That means leaving those of us with less of a chance of survival behind.'

She could see him start to make the same argument he'd given her since she announced her decision the day before. 'We are not discussing this any further. Jaha's stopped the turbine – you need to get down to that room ready. Miller's gathering the others who will climb out with you as we speak.'

'Octavia …'

She stood, and carefully lifted her mask to her face. Quickly securing the straps to hold it there, she rounded the desk to Kane.

His arms were open for her as she fell against him in an embrace. 'You better thrive up there, you hear me?' she whispered, and felt his chest bounce with a chuckle. 'Don't make me climb out and kick your ass.'

'I'll try my best,' he murmured into her hair.

Her arms tightened around his back, not wanting to let him go. The past six years had been eye opening in so many ways, not least the depth of Kane's affection for her. 'When you see Bellamy,' she finally said, pulling back enough to look up at Kane's dark eyes, 'Make sure you tell him I'm sorry in case I don't make it out of here alive. Remind him of the last radio conversation we had before Praimfaya – and don't let him hurt.'

Kane's hands slid to grasp the tops of her arms. His grip was firm, but not painful. 'I won't need to,' he replied cautiously. 'You're going to survive this, Octavia. You're strong – you're already defying expectations and Abby thinks you actually stand a chance at beating this thing.'

'There's a chance I won't, though.' Her hands raised to grip his arms just below his elbows. 'You saw the kid from Louwoda Kliron – he started to get better, until out of nowhere, he drowned in his own blood.'

Kane winced, and Octavia smiled sadly – not that he could see it behind the mask. 'I'll fight as long as I can, but I can't fight forever. I'm so _tired_. I'm tired of trying to hold together the fragile remnants of peace, trying to hold together a coalition that never wanted to be confined together. I'm tired of being treated like an outsider by both sets of my people – the Grounders don't trust me because I'm Skaikru, and Skaikru repeatedly murdered their friends and family before this, but Skaikru also don't trust me because I have an in with the Grounders.' To her shame, her eyes began to water.

Kane pulled her back against his chest, shushing her gently. 'I can't do it anymore. I can't be the leader they want me to be – the leader _you_ want me to be. I wasn't born for it. I never wanted this.'

His warm hands stroked her hair, and she found herself relaxing against him as the tears fell. It was rare of her to show weakness, but he was the one she trusted the most down here, underground. He was the one who kept her centred for the past six years – the one who taught her what she needed to know about leading, about surviving.

To lose him was heartbreaking.

'No matter what happens next, Octavia,' he whispered, and she pulled back again, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks, 'I'll always be with you. You know that, right?'

She nodded, struggling to meet his gaze. 'You'll always be a part of me, too. I have complete faith in you, and I know that you will survive.' His fingers stroked her cheek where he could, and she fought back another wave of tears.

'You should go,' she said softly. 'They'll be waiting for you.'

He gave her a weak smile. 'Okay,' he finally acquiesced. 'Octavia …'

He seemed to debate with himself, and Octavia saved him the trouble.

'In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground.' Her voice didn't break even as she recited the age-old words. 'May we meet again.'

'May we meet again,' he echoed, and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. He lingered there, and she soaked up the warmth the affection sent through her. When he pulled away and turned to the door, she wiped at her cheeks again, wet once more.

He looked over his shoulder as he stepped into the corridor, his last words floating in the air behind him.

' _I'm so proud of you._ '

* * *

 **This story is getting so so long, but seriously, I can't wait to share what I've written with you. It's one of the best things I've _ever_ written. It's taken on a complete life of its own, and it just won't stop with the feels. I think I should finish writing it in the next week or so, which I'm sort of dreading, if I'm honest.**

 **Thank you all so much for your continued support. I love each and every person who's taken the time to review, fave and/or follow.**

 **To show my thanks, I want to give you a chance to influence the path this story takes a little - I know where it's going to end up, have the chapters already running around in my head even if I've not gotten to them yet. But it's the journey there that's keeping me on my toes. If you have _any_ suggestions, anything you'd like to see, drop me a message and I can't guarantee I'll be able to do anything with it, but I will see what I can do with the chapters still to come.**

 **Tears x**


	26. (XXVI) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

Clarke was smirking at him through the Rover window.

Why the hell was she smirking at him? He frowned at her, confused. Behind him, Madi giggled.

'Alright, what's so funny? We're on a schedule here. We need to get to Polis.'

Clarke nodded at him. 'I know. I'm just wondering, how exactly you plan to find your way there?'

He frowned. 'Clarke, I've driven to Polis countless times. I know my route.'

'You haven't driven that route in six years, and you won't be driving it anytime soon.' She rolled her eyes at him. 'For one thing, the road's gone. It's shrubbery now. And part of it collapsed into a secondary cave system, so if you try to follow it, you'll crash.' She shrugged nonchalantly. 'For another, the forest you knew is no more. Trees have fallen down all over the place. One wrong turn, you smack into a tree and, guess what, you crash.'

He sighed. 'Why do I feel like there's more?'

Madi snorted behind him. 'Because there is!' Her childish voice was gleeful, and he had to suppress his grin.

'Even if you get out of the forest – which is doubtful, by the way – you wouldn't be able to find your way to Polis. All the landmarks you knew are gone, except the big awkward rock formation halfway there.' She pulled the driver's door back open. 'So, how about you shuffle over, and I'll drive you there?'

He glared at her. She had good points – he'd already seen with his own eyes just how much the landscape had changed. But he'd loved driving, and the drive to Polis had once been enough to distract him from being in the small cab of the Rover with Clarke for hours on end.

Hours which would be more awkward than ever before after their encounter two days before. The encounter neither had brought up in conversation since.

Nevertheless, he did as instructed, sliding himself along the bench with a small grumble that had Echo laughing this time. With a grin of victory, Clarke hauled herself into the driver's seat. 'Don't worry. I won't crash you into a tree like the last time you drove us anywhere.'

His cheeks flushed in memory. He hadn't been able to forget that moment – driving Clarke, Emori and Murphy to Becca's lab to retrieve Raven. Distracted by the joke he'd made to Clarke about her not shooting him, and that smile – _God_ that smile she gave him – distracting him to the point he didn't notice the guy jumping in front of them.

Or the tree he swerved them right into.

Okay, so she had a point there too. He _had_ crashed them into a tree.

'Don't ask,' he growled back as he heard Madi begin to voice her question. Clarke had obviously kept _some_ things from the girl for whatever reason.

Clarke kicked the engine into life, and for a long time, there was only silence in the Rover.

Monty followed behind in the truck, with the rest of their friends. They had a radio connection, but neither vehicle used it. There was no need to, not yet. Clarke's route was clear, and she drove slow enough for the others to follow easily.

If those in the other vehicle were anything like him at that moment, they were thinking about everything that could go wrong between that moment and reaching Polis – and everything that could go wrong once they got there.

Were they too late? Would the vehicles cope with what they were asking them to do? Had their modifications been made strong enough?

 _Would Octavia still be alive when he got there?_

That was the question that plagued him more than any other at the moment.

Octavia could not die. He had already thought her dead once, had been presented irrefutable evidence of her defeat in battle – only for her to stumble out of a burning Ark towards him hours later, still very much alive.

He couldn't go through that feeling again. That had been _hell_. He'd blanked most of it out, but he did remember the sinking feeling in his stomach as he'd been presented her broken blade. The pain that gouged through his chest. The tightness he hadn't realised until he'd realised there was a chance she'd survived and it lessened.

He didn't realise the tears were building in his eyes again, or that his jaw had clenched tightly, or even Clarke was watching him from the corner of her eye, until he felt her small hand rest on his knee to soothe him.

He clutched at it like it was a lifeline – and in a way, perhaps it was. His palm on top, his fingers threaded through hers.

Some things wouldn't change, no matter what they did in foolish, stolen moments that weren't so foolish after all.

Even in the wake of them, she'd be there to prop him up whenever he felt like falling.

Just like she always had.

* * *

 **A day early, but the last chapter was uploaded at 5 past midnight on Tuesday morning so ... it evens out I guess? I'm also not around tomorrow evening so lucky you guys.**

 **Next chapter will be on Friday as per usual.**


	27. (XXVII) Raven

**Raven**

The first time Raven had seen Polis had been through a computer screen. A giant tower dominated the landscape, and the city around it was bustling.

The next time she'd seen it, it was being engulfed by a nuclear storm.

The first time she saw it in person …

The tower was gone. The skyline was flat, no buildings left intact. Some had fallen from the force of Praimfaya, some had collapsed when others had crashed down onto them.

How many people had been outside, crushed to death even as they burned alive from the inside? Or had they all been turned to little more than dust before the buildings started to fall?

She almost didn't want to start moving the rubble, just in case anyone was still trapped beneath it. Didn't want to see the face of anyone she'd known, contorted in death.

In front of her, Clarke pulled the Rover to a stop alongside what Raven had mistaken as a hill. Looking closer now as the truck slowed too, she realised it was actually mound of rubble.

The tower. And somewhere beneath it, the Bunker door.

Monty turned the power to the truck off, slumping back into his seat as he stared out of the front window.

None of them could have imagined the true scale of devastation Praimfaya had brought with it. The drones had cut out before full impact and try as she might, Raven had never managed to get the Ark systems back online to try to connect with communication systems on Earth.

'How did they survive down there?' It was Harper's soft question that made them come back to themselves.

'The same way we did on the Ark,' Raven replied carefully. 'By looking forward to the day they could return to the ground.'

She swallowed hard, but pushed open the truck door as she watched Clarke hope out of the Rover, Bellamy quickly following on the other side.

There were no plants. No trees, no animals. No signs of nature anywhere near Polis. She turned in a circle, hoping to see _something_ , but the land was dead.

She completed her turn just as Echo slid out, eyes wide in disbelief at the ruins in front of her. She'd forgotten how much time Echo had spent here – the memories Echo had made. This was where Roan had died, where she'd been banished from her clan and sent to her guaranteed death until Clarke and Bellamy showed her mercy.

Madi, stepping out behind the Azgedan, soothed her with a hug from behind. Raven was almost shocked to see tears build in Echo's eyes, and her hands ever so gently cover the youngster's own.

'We need to find Kane!' Bellamy's voice was booming in the still, quiet desolation. 'He should be with a group of Grounders, Octavia's advisors and ambassadors. They may well still be by the turbines waiting for others to come out, but just in case …' His gaze swept over all of them. 'Echo, Harper, Monty, take the east side. Clarke and I will take the west. Raven, you stay with Madi and Emori. And Murphy. See if you can't come up with a plan for shifting this rubble.'

Raven nodded, eyes already skimming over the large fragments of concrete and bricks and god knew what else, trying to work out which were the structural ones in the mound – which ones they could move, and which ones to avoid until later.

'Once we find the others, one of us will double back and get you guys to bring the vehicles around. We'll start near the turbines, make sure their airflow isn't compromised.'

They all nodded, and the two groups set off searching.

Raven frowned, reaching back into the truck to find the random pieces of paper and pencils she'd grabbed on the way out. She needed a proper plan to get the rubble down without causing any more injuries to anyone.

Twenty minutes of sketching out the general layout, highlighting key points she thought she could tell, Murphy popped his head into the cab.

'No offense, Reyes, but can you hurry it up so we can get Abby out? Or at least Emori _in_?'

She threw him a glare over her shoulder. 'Kind of working on that now. We can't go in just randomly shifting rubble – it won't help anyone if we take out a central piece that makes the rest fall.' She slumped back in her sleep. 'Besides, until Kane tells us that the rest are out of the turbines we have to be mindful of those, too.'

Murphy sighed. Raven couldn't blame him for his impatience.

'If I'm right about which are load bearing clumps, we should be able to shift it all by tomorrow night at the latest – that's if we factor in breaks. If we had enough hands – if enough come out through the turbines – we could probably get it done …' A few more scribbles here, a frantic crossing out there. 'Maybe … midday.'

'Then we do that.' Murphy's voice was sure, and Raven raised her eyebrow as she glanced over her shoulder at him. 'I don't care what it takes. You and the Princess need to make sure we get that rubble moved. Get Abby the fuck out of there.'

She turned herself in her seat as best as she could, so that she could meet his fierce gaze. 'This is all theoretical. We don't know how many people are going to come out of the Bunker, or what state they'll be in.' She glanced down at where Emori lay, bundled against the blankets they'd brought with them. Clarke had produced a bag of fluid she'd declared was nutrients Becca had carefully stored, and when she found a makeshift cannula, she'd set it up so they didn't have to worry about her quite as much.

'They'll save her,' she said softly. Murphy's lids lowered, hiding his eyes from her, but she'd grown to know him well enough to see the pain that filled his face. 'They won't let you lose anyone else.'

He scoffed at that. 'If Jaha has his say, he'll let her die just to spite me. He already floated my dad for trying to save my life. Made my mother hate me until she drank herself to death.' He glared out the windscreen. 'Remind me to kick Bellamy's ass for not letting me bring any guns.'

Raven rolled her eyes. 'There _are_ no guns in Arkadia.'

'You really believe that?' He smirked. 'God, you're so oblivious. Clarke has a whole arsenal locked away.'

Raven felt her eyebrows rise. She'd seen no evidence of that – or of any reason for Clarke to have found any guns. 'C'mon, genius. You're really telling me you didn't notice them on the way to Arkadia? She tried to hide them, but she didn't do very well.'

'Whatever.' Raven turned her back to him, looking back down at her musings. It's not like she should believe him … Clarke wouldn't lie about there being nobody on the ground.

Especially if she felt she had to keep guns close by because of them.


	28. (XXVIII) Kane

**Kane**

'C'mon, you're almost there.' Kane stretched his hand out to the young girl just one good pull from escaping the Bunker. 'Not much further.'

Her frightened gaze met his, then flicked down to his hand. 'It's okay,' he murmured. 'It's safe now.'

Behind him, Indra barked out orders to the few dozen others who'd already made it out. Some, she told to do nothing – he could guess who they were – while others, she ordered to go around the rubble and see if they could get an idea of the scale of it.

The third group he heard her order, she told to go find wood – wherever it might be. The little he'd seen of the ground when he climbed out first had shown him that any plant life that had once been around Polis seemed to have burnt away into nothingness.

His attention had been quickly diverted by others climbing out behind him, though, so he couldn't be entirely sure about that.

The girl's fingers tightening around his brought him back to focus, and he gave her a smile as he gave her a tug. She scrambled to get her legs over the lip of the turbine, and then she fell to the ground in relief.

Behind her, more were already beginning to climb out.

Seventeen children later, the other adults began to emerge.

Jackson came first, pushing a bag with their scant medical supplies ahead of him. Kane grabbed it and set it to the side before clasping Jackson's arm to pull him free. Behind him came Miller, quickly followed by the first of the Grounders.

'Any sign of them?' Miller gestured to the radio Kane had clipped to his belt. They didn't need to verbalise a name to know who they were referring to.

He shook his head. 'Not yet, but Raven did mention that with the radios being affected in Arkadia, there was every chance they wouldn't be able to get a signal while moving.' He glanced over to Indra, still arranging the other escapees. 'Let's get everyone out that we can, and then we start trying to shift the rubble, regardless of whether they're here.'

Jackson nodded his agreement to the plan, and Miller pursed his lips. Kane lay his hand on the boy's shoulder. 'I'll keep helping the others. Why don't you go join the group Indra's sent to run around the rubble, see if you can see any signs of them?'

Miller nodded. 'Yeah, yeah I can do that. You be okay here?'

Kane nodded, and Jackson offered a smile. 'I'll see you in a bit then.'

He took off, and Kane turned his attention back to the turbine tunnel.

He lost count of how many people climbed out, barely noted any of the conversations going on around him as he helped each of them over the ledge.

They must have got five hundred or so people out when it all went wrong.

His first warning was the cry of alarm from one of the women. His second, the shout of 'Hod op!' from Indra.

The third made him jump back, as smaller rocks suddenly rolled down in front of him.

His head swung to the side, where he finally saw the young warrior who had his hands over a large slab, tugging it out of the way. His shout joined the others, and he could see, almost in slow motion, as the slab slid out of place …

The boy stumbled backwards, losing his footing. He went down, hard, and the slab landed over him heavily. His scream of pain was cut off into a wet gurgle, and more women screamed.

The rubble that had been supported by the slab, as deceptive as it had been, began to fall. First, forward, onto the poor boy; then, to the side.

Kane's eyes widened, and he turned to the woman currently climbing out of the turbine. 'Get back!' he yelled, waving his arms. 'Go back! It's not safe!'

He felt the radio yanked from his belt, and then heard Jackson's voice shouting into it. 'Abby! Jaha! Get the people out of the way of the turbine, there's rubble coming down!'

His warning came too late – Kane watched as the woman stretched out a hand, eyes desperate, before the rocks began to land in the turbine. The first slid down, and she screamed as it connected below her waist. A knee, likely. Someone behind her groaned, and then there was silence as a second, and then a third and fourth and fifth fell.

Jackson's arm clamped around his chest as he tried to jump forward. 'It's not safe, Kane! You'll get hit!'

'I don't care!' Kane struggled, but he was no match for Jackson and Indra as she grabbed hold of him too. 'We didn't get this far just to let everyone else die down there!'

'Kane.' Indra's voice, ever calm, swept over him. 'Kane, it's over.'

He struggled again, but then he stopped, realising. She was right – the rubble had stopped falling, but the turbine they had been climbing through was blocked off.

He swallowed, staring in disbelief.

The radio crackled, and Abby's voice came through.

'Jackson, what the hell just happened?'

* * *

 **I apologise for any formatting issues with this chapter - the site wouldn't let me upload this so I had to do it via the app - I will try to amend when the site is working correctly again.**


	29. (XXIX) Clarke

**Clarke**

'Are we going to talk about it?'

Bellamy was silent beside her, hands stuffed into the pockets of the jacket he'd dug out of somewhere in Arkadia. Clarke risked a glance at him, kicking a small stone out of her path as she did.

His gaze was forward, scanning the distance. Scanning for Kane, as she should be doing. Her eyes flittered back to the horizon.

'Or are we just going to pretend it never happened?'

'What exactly are you expecting me to say?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I don't care. Just … _something_.' She sighed. 'I don't like this awkwardness.'

Silence. She frowned, and stopped walking. Bellamy didn't realise at first, but when her hand flew out to grab his arm, he came to a stop too. ' _Bellamy_.'

'What, Clarke?' He spun to her. 'What do you want from me? Do you want me to profess some eternal love bullshit right now? Or do you want me to agree that it was all a big mistake?'

'Neither! Bellamy, I want to know that we're alright still. That this isn't going to break us.' She dropped her hand, and her gaze. 'I want to know you don't hate me for taking advantage of a moment of weakness.'

'Clarke …' His voice trailed off. She steeled herself.

When it seemed that there was nothing further forthcoming, she nodded her head. 'It's okay, Bellamy. I get it.' She gave him a smile. 'I screwed it up between us.'

She started walking again, chin high and resolute. She barely made it five steps before he grabbed her arm this time.

'That's not what I meant, Clarke.' His voice was low, dangerous, and her eyes closed. 'Look … I'm not mad at you. It was just …' She heard him clear his throat, felt his fingers tighten around her arm.

'I spent six years thinking you were dead,' he finally whispered. 'I spent six years, looking down at the burning Earth and thinking you'd burnt along with it.'

She opened her eyes, but kept her back to him so he didn't see the tears glistening. 'Those six years were the hardest of my life. Harder than hiding Octavia. Harder than fighting for our lives down here.' He tugged her back, and she stumbled just slightly before his chest was there, breaking her fall. He spun her until her face was against his shoulder, and his arms folded around her back.

'You saved us, and we left you to die. Even after I swore I wouldn't let anything happen to you. So knowing you were alive, I … I don't even know. It changed something.' His words were muffled against her hair, and her hands hesitantly raised. Lay on his back, and then clasped together.

Her heart fluttered with hope that she immediately quenched. 'I had to prove to myself you were definitely alive. Ever since I woke up in that cave, and you were there, I was afraid I was dreaming. That we never left the Ring – or that the landing killed me.'

'You're still very much alive, and very much on the ground, Bellamy.' She nuzzled her face into his shoulder. 'Trust me, I pinch myself every day to make sure.'

He laughed, and she felt it vibrate through her own chest. 'I'm sorry if I worried you,' he finally continued. 'But, Clarke … right now, I _have_ to focus on Octavia.'

Her muscles tightened, and her hands unclasped. 'And you need to focus on your mom.'

She pulled away, eyes downcast. 'I know.' She nodded at the floor. 'I know.'

One callused finger lifted her chin, turning her gaze to him. His face was soft. She could feel the tears beginning to burn their way down her cheeks. His expression fell.

'Clarke …'

Whatever he was about to say, or do – she wasn't sure what she wanted right then, or what would be worse – they were interrupted by the sound of screaming. Their surprised expressions must have mirrored one another, and as one, they took off, following the noise.

They rounded a large deposit of rubble to find Wonkru, some faces anguished, some disbelieving. Some still screaming.

Her eyes skimmed over all of them – she could see few faces she recognised until she at last noticed Indra.

And stood not far from Indra …

'Kane,' she breathed. Bellamy tensed, and she raised one shaking hand to point him out. Together, they made their way through the shocked stares – some of which switched to them – until they stood behind their friends.

Bellamy reached out, laying his hand on Kane's back. 'What happened?' he asked, and the older man started.

'Bellamy!' Indra's attention turned to him first, and Clarke offered a smile as the War Chief's gaze swept to her. 'Wanheda.'

'My God.' Kane's face was pale, and Clarke gave him a small smile. 'You're here. You're really here.'

Clarke nodded, and before she knew it, found herself swept up in an embrace. A very different embrace from the one she'd been in just moments before.

'Kane, what happened? We heard screaming.'

His hold loosened, and Clarke was able to step back. 'One of the young boys … he tried to move some of the rubble.' He gestured with one hand, and Clarke turned her head hesitantly. Now she looked, she could just see the awkward shape at the side that she'd dismissed as rocks – a hand.

'It set off a reaction. The turbine tunnel's been filled.' He nodded his head this time, towards a place Clarke would never have noticed the dust settling over. 'They only have what the scrubbers have stored.'

Beside her, Bellamy's jaw did its thing. 'How many are still down there?'

'Best guess … three, maybe four hundred healthy and another hundred sick.' Kane looked regretful. 'Octavia's still down there. And Abby.'


	30. (XXX) Octavia

**Octavia**

'You're never going to shift it.' Octavia raised one eyebrow as she stared at the wall opposite her. To her side, Abby was scrabbling at the rubble that had blocked off the turbine with bloodied fingers.

The three hundred and twelve people who hadn't been able to climb out in time sobbed to her right, echoing down the corridor from the gathering room. The seven who'd been so close they could taste outside lay under sheets Jaha had scrounged up from one of the dormitories.

'I can't just do _nothing_.'

'So don't.' Octavia shrugged. 'Instead of trying to get through the rubble that you'll never get through, why don't you see if you can make life comfortable for the other sick?' She glanced over. 'We have just enough morphine to help them.'

The doctor froze. 'You're not suggesting …'

Octavia gave her a steady look. 'Without that turbine, we're all going to die soon anyway. Might as well save them the pain of suffocating or choking.'

'And what do you propose we do to everyone else?'

'We see how long the oxygen can last, and if it's not long enough, we still have three gas canisters from Mount Weather.'

Abby shook her head in denial. Octavia just stared. 'We can't just knock them out and hope they won't wake up before the oxygen runs out.'

'Do you have a better plan?' She waited. 'I didn't think so.' She pushed herself up, struggling slightly with the pressure in her chest from the illness. 'Jaha?'

'The scrubbers are fully operational,' came his disembodied reply. He was laying on the floor, both in deference to the shattered hip from the rubble Abby had diagnosed, and the fact the connections he needed were only accessible through a grate right against the floor. 'If we're lucky, we have a week of air at current consumption.'

'And if we take out Medical's consumption?'

'Ten days, but no more than that.'

Octavia frowned. 'Does that take into account the fact we're roughly two thirds lighter on people?'

'Unfortunately, yes. This data is real time.' The scraping of wood on the concrete made her turn to where he lay. He'd pushed the box out of the way so they could see each other. 'If we were at full capacity, we'd have a day, maybe two. With the others back on the ground, we have a week.'

'That's more than enough time for them to dig us out, Octavia.' Abby stepped away from the rubble, rubbing at the blood covering her hands. 'And the radio still works, so we can still keep in touch and let them know how long we've got.'

Octavia looked between the two of them. The despair on Jaha's face, and the hope on Abby's.

She reached for the radio, lifting it to her mouth. 'Kane, come in. It's Octavia.' She paused, waiting. 'Kane, do you read me?'

'Octavia!' Kane's voice came through loud and clear. 'We're trying to shift the rubble. Clarke and Bellamy are bringing the Rover to the turbines. We're going to get them unblocked for you.'

'How long will that take, Kane?'

'Not long. Raven's drawing up plans of the rubble, trying to work out which bits can be shifted first. She'll draw up an idea of the turbines and then we'll get straight on it.'

Octavia sighed, and Abby knelt beside her, one hand reaching out for the radio as if to ask permission. With only a second's thought, Octavia handed it over.

'Did anyone get injured on the ground, Marcus?'

She could hear the grief in his voice. 'A Trikru warrior. He pulled the rubble. He didn't make it.' A pause, during which nobody said anything. 'How about down there? There were people in the tunnel.'

Abby's face fell. Octavia had learnt that she hated losing her patients, especially those she didn't make it in time. The ones who died with nobody by their side. The seven whose bodies lay cooling on the floor near them.

She took the radio back. 'We lost seven – everyone in the tunnel – and Jaha got hit. Broke his hip.' She frowned at Abby, who had now buried her head in her hands. 'He's worked it out. We have about a week of air right now, thanks to the scrubbers.' She spared him a glance. 'He thinks.'

Jaha's face remained firm. 'We'll get you out,' Kane promised over the radio. 'You need to hold on for a little while, okay? We'll dig you out.'

She didn't even see Abby move until the woman cradled the radio in her hands. 'Marcus … I'm so, so sorry,' she whispered. Tears began to spill down the other woman's cheeks.

'It's okay, Abby.' His voice had gentled, and Octavia turned her gaze away from the obviously private moment. 'I know.'

The radio grew quiet, and the three of them sat there, each mulling over the future where, exactly, they could go from there.


	31. (XXXI) Raven

**Raven**

They pulled the Rover around the rubble, slamming the brakes to a stop just in time to avoid hitting Kane and Indra.

Any relief Raven had at seeing the adults lasted for little more than a second as she turned her attention to where she gathered the turbine entrances had been. Layer upon layer of rubble hid any sight of them, and her breath caught at the magnitude of the task before her.

'Shit,' Murphy whispered in the back, and Clarke, sat beside Raven, shot him a glare over her shoulder. 'What? It's not like the kid hasn't heard worse.'

'Not in your language.' Madi sounded distracted, and Raven threw her a glance.

'Everybody out!' Bellamy barked from the driver's seat. 'Raven, work out what we need to move, _please_. We _need_ to get them out.'

She nodded, already looking for the best place to start removing the rubble. She winced only slightly as she hopped down from the cab, jarring her bad leg some.

Mind racing, she made her way not to the turbine that had just been blocked, but instead to where the coverings were sparse on top of another one. 'Your best bet for a speedy removal is this one,' she called back, and felt rather than saw Kane step up behind her. 'The problem with this one is you have to prop up that stone at the back, or you'll have another fall.'

'Is there another one that is a bit more stable?'

She pursed her lips, eying up another pile of rubble a little distance away. 'Hard to say … possibly that one? Or the one just beyond it. Not sure where exactly the turbines are, I can't judge properly without having seen them before.' She frowned. 'But they look stable enough if you take the core out.'

She turned around, looking between Kane, Bellamy and Clarke. Indra hung in the background, only half focused on the small group. Most of her attention seemed to be on the large gathering of people watching with anxious faces.

'How long does Octavia have down there, Kane?' Bellamy's eyes were intense. 'How long do we have to dig her out?'

'Jaha's calculations suggest seven days of air stored in the scrubbers.' Kane ran one hand through already dishevelled hair. 'She's on day seven of the sickness too. If we stand any chance of her recovering …'

Raven turned back to the rubble. 'We need strong people to support.' She debated internally, deciding between speed and stability. Speed won out. 'We clear this out.' She pointed, and as Indra shouted orders to gather the strongest warriors across all twelve clans, carefully made her way across.

'I'll get the Rover ready,' she heard Bellamy say, then the slamming of the doors that indicated he'd gotten himself into position.

'You got a radio, Kane?'

He fumbled at his belt, and a moment later the heavy walkie landed in her outstretched hand. She lifted it to her lips.

'Anyone who can hear me down there, we're coming for you.' She swallowed. 'Get out of the way of the turbines. Once we clear them, we'll radio to let you know it's safe.'

She didn't wait for a response, casting the radio back to waiting hands without looking as she limped forward. Three Grounder warriors stepped forward, fanning around her.

'Okay. So, we need to be careful. The Rover has a rig that can slide under the heavier sections, but we'll need you to help position it.' She eyed them speculatively. 'You,' she decided, pointing to the more muscular of the trio. 'We need to lift these few first.' She gestured, and the men set to work.

Bit by bit, they shifted the cement and the bricks and the stones until finally, closing in on dawn, Bellamy used the lift on the front of the Rover to hold the last slab in place, supporting a ton of others with it.

Raven allowed herself a small smile of success before she turned back to everyone else. Sleeves had been pushed up, and skin was glistening with sweat. Breathing was ragged.

She held one hand out in a silent demand for the radio, with Kane happily relinquished as he bent over, hands on his knees, to regain his breath.

'This is Raven. Anyone in the Bunker, come in.'

There was a delay in a response, where Raven chewed her lip, before, finally, Abby replied.

'We're getting fresh air.' Her voice was incredulous, and Raven allowed herself a smirk this time. 'My God, Raven, you unblocked a turbine?'

'Hell yeah we did.' She raised one eyebrow. 'Is there any way anyone can climb out of this one? We'll try to get the door unblocked next but that will take some time without the use of the Rover.'

Jaha spoke up next. 'I can't open this turbine. The tools were destroyed by the last rubble, and even if they weren't, I can't stand to reach some of the connections.'

Raven's smirk turned into a frown, mind starting to race again. 'I can start on the door now, but it's going to take at least two days without the Rover. If we take the Rover away, there's a strong chance the turbine will be blocked again.'

'Do whatever you need to.'

She spun around on her good leg to face her friends again. 'Hang tight, guys. You'll be out of there before you know it.'


	32. (XXXII) Madi

**Madi**

So many people on the ground.

It was intimidating in a way. Madi's village had been small – no more than fifty people inhabiting it. Until her sister's death, she'd barely gone beyond the borders of their farmland to see anyone else.

A headcount had shown there to be more than six hundred people now on the ground.

Six hundred and fifty seven, to be precise, including Clarke and her friends from space.

Six hundred and fifty six more than she'd grown used to.

She couldn't help the nerves that had left her staying close to Clarke's side as she discussed with some of the leaders their next steps. She didn't understand most of their talk, but that didn't matter. She just needed the familiarity.

Bellamy, as stressed as he appeared to be, made sure he didn't stray too far from her side either. The few occasions Clarke had had to leave her – personal reasons, or to administer treatment to Emori in the easily cramped back of the truck with the help of a medic from the Bunker – Bellamy had stepped up in her place.

It was he she clung to now, as he slowly made the rounds of those who'd emerged, checking on their needs as they settled down to sleep in the fresh air.

He paused by a small Azgedan family, his soft smile in place, as Madi looked around. She'd recognised nobody yet, though they'd met several people from Trishanakru. Dread had gripped her, thinking nobody from her village had been spared the devastating effects of Praimfaya.

Bellamy's large hand came to lay on her shoulder, and when she looked up at him, he smiled at her. 'Are you not tired yet?' he asked, and she shook her head in defiance. 'Just a little longer and we'll go get some food and find somewhere to rest, then, okay?'

She nodded back at him, then turned her gaze to skim over the gathering around them.

Two families later, and several stray people, she heard her name shouted.

It wasn't a voice she expected, and turned her head hesitantly to seek out the person calling her. The call came again, louder this time, and somewhere to her right.

She spun her body around just in time for the man who'd been calling out to her to nearly skid to a stop. His eyes were wide, disbelieving, and her name fell again from his lips.

Bellamy stiffened behind her, but she felt the recognition wash over her before he could react. 'Endin?'

His face broke into a blinding smile, and she fell into his arms as he opened them wide. Behind him, his mother and sister rushed up to join him.

Falling back into her native language, she began babbling. ' _I thought you were all dead_!'

' _We thought you died. You and your parents disappeared just before the ambassador ordered us to Polis_.' Arida, Endin's mother, almost ripped Madi from her son's embrace to envelop her. ' _Nobody knew where you'd gone, or why._ '

' _The scouts were out … after Sella's death, father didn't want me to go away. We were trying to find the way to get to Floukru when … when …_ '

Arida shushed her, placing one hand on the back of her head soothingly. Madi was able to pull back the tears threatening to break. With a sniff, she also pulled back from the comforting arms.

Bellamy still stood behind her, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets now. Madi had forgotten – he wasn't fluent in Trigedasleng. He probably didn't understand most of what they were saying.

'Bellamy, this is Arida, Endin and Kina. They lived in the farm over from my family. My sister and I would always find ourselves causing trouble with Kina.' She felt her cheeks aching from the smile she couldn't contain. 'They're like family.'

She turned her attention back to her friends. ' _How did you get chosen for the Bunker_?'

Kina's face fell as she cleared her mother to approach Madi herself. ' _Most of the village died_ ,' she answered. ' _You know Trishanakru wasn't very big anyway, and only about half of us made it to Polis._ ' She pursed her lips. ' _Father didn't make it._ '

'Kina …' Madi hugged the other girl. ' _I'm so sorry._ '

'Yu laik … Bellamy?' Arida held her hand out in greeting. Bellamy grasped it with a nod. 'Yu … sister, Octavia, talk about you.'

'All good things, I hope.' Bellamy cracked a laugh, but Madi could see the stress that flittered across his face at the mention of his sister.

'She save us. She open Bunker to all.' Arida's other hand came up to hug Bellamy's against her chest. 'She thank you for strength sometimes, when she think no one listen.'

'That doesn't sound like Octavia.' Another joke to hide the stress. Madi eyed him as critically as she'd seen Clarke do. 'But I'm glad her generosity saved you. I'm sorry we couldn't save your partner.'

Arida shook her head. 'He die good death, saving children. He give up his spot for child.'

Madi nuzzled against Kina just that little bit tighter in sympathy. ' _Have you had food yet_?' she queried, and Kina shook her head. ' _We have meat, and nuts and berries, at the vehicles. Will you come_?'

At their assent, the five of them began to make their way back to where Murphy had pulled the truck up to distribute supplies. They'd be moving it as soon as they were finished, so they could start work on clearing the doors, but for now it served as their makeshift distribution centre.

She hung a little behind the others, watching as the siblings joked around and Arida spoke in her broken English to Bellamy, sharing the stories Octavia had clearly told.

She'd be lying to herself if she said she won't happy to find someone she'd known from before – and it was even better that it was the family she'd practically grown up with for the first five years of her life.

But of course, she'd forgotten one thing Clarke had been telling her time and again over the past five years of their companionship.

If something could go wrong, it probably would.

* * *

I might be able to work out a few sentences in Trigedasleng, but a whole conversation? Not a chance! So ... any sentences in Italic are spoken in Trigedasleng because we all know half the grounders won't want/will struggle to learn English.


	33. (XXXIII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

Two minutes.

Two damn minutes he'd taken his eyes off of Madi, walking alongside the mother of the friends she'd found.

Two damn minutes of not keeping at least a cautious eye around them.

The gunshot came out of nowhere, and an eerie silence descended in the first few seconds following the peal of thunder it brought with it. Then confusion reigned as Grounders became to scream and yell, scrambling for cover as more shots sounded.

His hand flew to his waist before he remembered, _again_ , that he didn't carry a gun anymore. Had no need to.

'Get down!' he yelled at Arida and her children, and they obeyed. Madi was still stood though, staring at him with wide eyes.

Had she ever heard a gunshot before? She did know what it was? He waved his hand at her to duck, heart pounding with adrenaline.

That's when he noticed it.

Her hands were cupped over her stomach, and her face had paled. Blood trickled between the gaps of her fingers. Her knees buckled beneath her.

Bellamy was on his feet in a second, ignoring the shouts from others behind him as he raced towards the youngster. Miller's voice was the loudest, even as Bellamy swept one arm under her knees and the other around her back, pulling her into the security of his hold.

He didn't feel the wound on his arm, just spun on his heel and began running back to the truck with all the speed he could muster.

More gunshots. A sting in his arm, close to his wound but far enough away he knew this was a graze. Rocks kicked up in front of him as the bullet just missed his foot. He steeled himself and kept moving, panicking as he began to feel warmth pooling against his chest. Madi's blood.

He spun around the back of the truck just as Clarke leaned around the covering, rifle in hand. She aimed with speed, before firing off three shots in quick succession.

'Jackson, need your help here!' Bellamy kicked a bag of berries out of the way before laying Madi down in their place. The medic crawled over, and with efficient hands ripped her shirt open to reveal the wound on the left hand side of her abdomen.

Two more shots from Clarke, and then she paused. He strained his ears listening for any retaliation as she pulled back just enough to be able to use the truck as a shield.

She hadn't yet realised who he'd brought in, and he thanked his lucky stars that she could focus all her attention on shooting.

It was that thought that made him do a double take. Where the hell had she gotten a rifle? There'd definitely not been any in the Rover, or the truck, and he hadn't seen any in Arkadia that she could have snuck out with them.

His attention was quickly diverted as one of Madi's bloody hands grasped at his. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile as Jackson set to work.

More gunfire, but less now. Only a few shots. One shooter?

Clarke waited until it passed before she leaned back out the truck. Rifle secured against her shoulder, she scanned the distance. Bellamy watched the precise way she handled the gun, the familiar way her shoulder absorbed the recoil as she set off a shot.

'All down,' she whispered to nobody in particular. 'I can't see anymore, not that they have any cover to take, not really.' She dropped the rifle, and turned her head.

He knew the instant she realised who had been hit, as her eyes turned panicked and the rifle dropped from her hands. 'No, Madi, no no no!'

She fell to her knees, stroking the youngster's hair. The tears Madi had been fighting spilled as she looked up at the blonde woman. Bellamy swallowed hard, forcing the lump in his throat back down. 'You're going to be okay, Madi, You're okay.'

He could hear the desperation in her voice, felt it well up in his chest as he looked down at Madi's young face.

It was Charlotte all over again.

He gripped Madi's hand that little bit tighter. 'Fight it, Madi,' he whispered, as Jackson pressed a wad of fabric to the side of the gunshot wound. 'You survived Praimfaya, right? This is nothing in comparison.'

Clarke's tearful eyes met his. He bowed his head ever so slightly, and she mouthed, 'thank you,' to him before Madi let out a cry of pain.

He heard footsteps approaching the truck behind him, and, still grasping Madi's hand tightly, turned around to meet Kane's eyes.

'What happened?'

Bellamy shook his head in confusion. 'I have no idea. But Clarke thinks she got them all.'

'I know who they were.' Clarke's admission was quiet, but Bellamy and Kane both heard her. 'A few months ago, I thought you were coming back. A ship came into the atmosphere. Eligius Prisoner Transport. They didn't land, and I haven't seen them since. But that was a big ship – they must have sent a smaller one to land somewhere, or found a different point.'

'And you're only thinking to tell us now?' His voice was accusatory, and she flinched. 'Clarke, they just shot at us. Probably killed a few, too, in the confusion.'

'Bellamy's right.' Kane's voice was calm, emotion controlled. 'If you knew of a threat, you should have told us.'

She bit her lip, fingers tracing patterns on Madi's forehead, the youngster slipping in and out of consciousness as Jackson stemmed the bleeding. 'I'm sorry. So much happened … I never meant to keep it from you.'

Silence fell between them. Beyond the truck, people were beginning to realise the immediate threat was gone. Murmurs rose, and he spotted Harper approaching the truck too, Miller in tow.

'We'll make rounds.' She was already tying her hair into a plait to keep it out of the way. 'Do we just have the one rifle?'

Bellamy turned to Clarke to answer that, and she had the foresight to look embarrassed.

'In the Rover. False compartment under the front bench, accessible from the back.' She didn't look away from Madi's pained face. 'If you put your hand to the very right, you'll feel the little nook that lets you pull the cover away.'

The two guards nodded, and slid away almost as silently as they'd approached. Bellamy reluctantly let Madi's hand slide from his.

'This conversation is _not_ over, Clarke,' he promised as he stepped back outside the truck.

She looked at him, and he could see the deep sadness in those emotional blue eyes of hers.

She swallowed, nodded, and he stepped away to join Harper and Miller in retrieving the guns.

* * *

 **One thing about the 100 - if it's going to have emotional impact and make you think "did they seriously just ...?" then it's happening, like this chapter just did. Oops.**

 **And you didn't think I'd forget about the prisoners, did you?** _(I totally did to start with)_


	34. (XXXIV) Kane

**Kane**

Fourteen injured. Three dead.

Kane knelt beside two of the injured. They'd been fortunate – one had sustained a small nick to the shoulder, and the other a graze on her upper thigh. Enough for them to need a bandage to cover the wound, but not enough for full medical treatment.

Kane offered them reassuring smiles and words before he moved on to the next, and then the next again, until he'd finally seen thirteen of the injured. The fourteenth still lay in the back of the truck, where Jackson and Clarke were patching her up.

She was the only one who'd lost consciousness. The others, though they had been hit by bullets, had been hit in places where they didn't bleed too much – places where it just caused pain. Most had been through-and-throughs, one had the bullet embedded against her wrist bone, and one had fortunately had been hit by a bullet that had gone through someone else's arm so had lost most of its speed.

His companion had been able to pull that one out just with her fingers, and Kane handed out as many clean fabric strips as he could to help them patch themselves up until Jackson was free.

Grounder healers walked amongst them, offering what support they could. Kane left them to it after an hour or so, popping his head into the truck in time to see Jackson finish sewing up the entry wound in Madi's back as Clarke gently hummed.

He hadn't forgotten the comment Clarke made about thinking Bellamy was coming back, and the possibilities kept running through his mind, always coming to the same conclusion. But he didn't ask, not while she was upset and distracted by the youngster.

Instead, he turned to where Miller was dragging the last of the bodies of the attackers closer to them for examination. There were six of them, all men, all dressed in garish yellow jumpsuits. Prisoners, clearly, based on what Clarke had told him.

Miller let the man's legs drop with an undignified thump. 'What do you want to do with them?' he asked, voice gruff.

'Check them, see if they have a way to contact any others – if there are others. Or a way to find the ship they came down on.'

'You think they're from space?' Miller's eyebrows shot up.

'Clarke says she saw their ship a few months ago, but that it didn't land near them at the time.' His choice of words was deliberate. He didn't want anyone else coming to the conclusion he did about Clarke having been alone on the ground for however long. Not until he knew for sure.

'Wait, how did we miss them then?' Miller's face became confused. 'Didn't all the stations join the Ark when it was formed?'

Kane nodded. 'All the stations, yes. But apparently, this was a prison ship Clarke saw. Probably an outlier – the asteroid belt, or even further, maybe.' He looked down at the prisoner he was stood in front of.

The face was young – early twenties, most likely. A waste of a life, to be a prisoner and to be killed.

Yet any sympathy he felt dissolved within moments as he reminded himself of the dead and the wounded. He supposed he should be grateful about the sickness in the Bunker – Octavia would have been one of the first out otherwise, and he knew she would have run into the hail of bullets instead of taking cover. And that Abby would have run to treat any injured before they were clear.

They'd be amongst the dead.

He shook the thought away, focusing not on those still underground, but on those he could help in that instance. 'Once you've searched them, we'll burn them,' he decided. 'Did Indra's men find any wood?'

It was Harper who answered this time, as she knelt beside the boy's head to check for hidden earpieces. 'No, but we know where there's still trees. The dropship site is in a valley that wasn't burnt.' She lifted her gaze to Kane. 'It's probably about two hour's drive on the new route.'

They couldn't spare either vehicle for the drive. He weighed up his options. They couldn't leave this site, not while they still had to open the Bunker. But they were too exposed if there were enemies around.

'How big is this valley?'

'Big enough for most, if not all, of the six hundred.' Harper finished her examination of his head, and moved to start looking through his pockets. 'Plenty of berries and nuts there, too. There aren't many animals around, but Clarke has a cave with some preserved meat stored.'

Another suggestion that Clarke hadn't made it into space with the others. Kane filed it away for later.

'Arkadia has some green space too. And Praimfaya didn't destroy the inside.' Harper straightened, having been unsuccessful in her check of the boy. 'The med bay is still in decent shape. A little sparse on medicines but the tools are there.'

Kane nodded, decision made. 'Okay. We send the injured, and some others, back to Arkadia. The rest, save for the strongest, go to the dropship.' He clasped Miller's shoulder. 'Round up all those you think can help shift the rubble. We're going to have to send the injured back in the truck, so we'll have to do it all by hand.'

'Consider it done.' Miller headed off, rifle held loosely in one hand. Harper looked to Kane for her orders.

'Help Jackson secure Emori and Madi in the truck. They'll be the first to go back. Once they're at Arkadia, bring the truck back for the rest of the wounded. I'll have the others ready to walk in your path.'

'Okay.' Harper secured her own rifle strap against her back more securely. 'Do you want Clarke to stay, or to go back with Jackson?'

He mulled that over. There really was little point in keeping her here except to interrogate her about how she knew about the prisoners and didn't share the knowledge.

'Take her. I doubt she'll separate from the girl anyway. She seems attached, and her knowledge will do more good supporting Jackson.'

Harper gave him a small smile. 'Madi's the reason she's still alive. I don't blame her for being attached.'

'Where did you find her?'

It definitely wasn't his imagination that Harper had to think her answer through, and he gave her the look he used to reserve for interrogations on the Ark before arresting a person. 'There's been enough hints for me to work out that Clarke never went back up into space with the rest of you, Harper. What happened?'

Harper sighed in defeat. 'There was a problem with getting power to the Ring. Clarke had to fix the satellite, and it took longer than we could afford to wait.' She avoided his gaze. 'We had to blast off without her. We only found out she survived when we landed two weeks ago.'

His eyebrows rose high in surprise. 'She survived on the ground, with Praimfaya raging?'

'She's a Nightblood. And the lab had just enough shelter, I guess.' Harper shrugged. 'At some point she found Madi, who was in one of the shelters from the first fall out. She's a Nightblood too – but I guess you worked that out. They've spent about five years together on a nearly dead planet.'

He absorbed that, and then groaned. 'Abby's going to kill her for sacrificing herself,' he finally responded, and Harper laughed.


	35. (XXXV) Clarke

**Clarke**

The ride back to Arkadia was mostly silent.

Bellamy drove the truck, with Emori and Madi wrapped in blankets in the back. Clarke refused to leave Madi's side even for a minute, clutching one now-cleaned hand tightly in her own.

The bullet had gone straight through, and fortunately hadn't hit any organs. It had caused shock, which had caused Madi to pass out when combined with the pain. Clarke had been the one to realise she'd also lost too much blood, and had found the necessary tubing in Jackson's kit for him to set up a blood transfusion from Clarke herself.

Nightblood could only support Nightblood, after all.

Jackson kept a close eye on her, but was now examining Emori, somehow managing not to be affected by the bumping of the truck along the route.

'I think I know why she's not waking up.' Jackson's sentence was the first spoken since Harper had updated them on Kane's plan for spreading out the people and Bellamy had volunteered to drive. Murphy, squeezed tightly in the corner so he could observe but not get in the way, moved forward.

'Well?'

'You said she hit loads of scrap on the Ark and you weren't sure you got them out?' Murphy nodded. 'I think there's one that got dislodged when you crash landed, and is pressing against a major blood vessel. The restricted flow would cause a lack of oxygen, which would explain the coma.'

'Can you fix it?'

Jackson looked across at Murphy, and Clarke held her breath. 'Yes. As soon as we're in Arkadia, I can operate, remove that particular scrap. It should restore full blood and oxygen flow, and she'll wake up. Usually within a few hours.'

Murphy scowled. 'You can't do it here?'

Clarke scoffed. 'Sure, let's do delicate surgery in a moving vehicle where there's every chance of making it worse.'

Murphy's scowled deepened. 'Jeez, _Princess_. I was only asking a question.'

Clarke rolled her eyes, and then turned her attention back to Madi. Silence fell again for the rest of the journey to Arkadia.

When they finally came to a stop outside the hangar bay doors, Clarke was the first to hop out, carefully gathering Madi's form in her arms. The girl had grown heavy over the years, but Clarke still managed to support her weight ever so carefully.

Bellamy helped her when they stepped through the doors, and when Clarke's strength began to flag from the stress of the day, he was there to take Madi from her arms.

She couldn't help but notice how gentle his expression was when he looked down at the girl, how soft his big hands were as he adjusted her, careful of the stitched up wounds. A lump formed in her throat, not of fear or sadness this time, but of longing.

A longing for a future she would probably never have.

Thoughts she was never supposed to allow herself presented in her mind, of a future with a family. A future with no more fighting, no more losing those she cared for.

A future where her life was one of peace, and companionship.

She fought the tears back as she followed Bellamy into med bay, watching as he set Madi down on one of the beds with care. She approached him almost hesitantly.

'It's almost like we've been given another chance, isn't it?'

He looked at her quizzically, and she elaborated. 'Charlotte. We failed her, but we have a chance with Madi.'

'How is it, after six years, you can still read my mind?'

She smiled. 'Not your mind, Bellamy. Your heart.' She placed a hand carefully on Madi's head. 'When I first found her, my first thought was of Charlotte. A young girl, lost and confused, not knowing quite what's happened or who to blame.'

The memories filled her with warmth. 'She was skittish at first. Didn't trust me. But when she did, she opened up with everything. Just became one warm, loving little girl who needed someone to keep her from the darkness. Keep her sane, keep her towards the light.'

Bellamy's hand came to rest on the small of her back, and she let herself enjoy the small show of affection. 'That's where we failed Charlotte. But seeing Madi, I felt like it was a second chance. And I knew that, if it had been you who found her instead of me, that that's exactly what you'd have done.'

'Can't deny that.' His voice was gruff, and together they stood, watching over the little girl that represented everything they both longed for.

He finally turned to her, his hand still on her back. 'Clarke, about before …'

She raised one hand to his mouth, stopping his words. 'Not right now,' she whispered. 'Not until we free Octavia and heal Madi. And deal with the prison ship.' So much happening. So much stopping them just _being_.

His eyes closed in defeat, and she moved her hand to his cheek instead. 'You should go,' she whispered. 'The others are waiting for you.'

He sighed, and his hand slid away from her back. 'I know.'

He made no move to go anywhere.

'Bellamy,' she warned, but whatever she was going to follow that up with was cut short as the doors slid open to reveal Jackson and Murphy supporting Emori.

He pulled away, and with one last, long look, made his way outside again.

* * *

 **I love writing gentler scenes between these guys, and Madi just makes it so easy.**

 **Who's ready for the last member of the Space Crew to come back into play? ;)**


	36. (XXXVI) Emori

**Emori**

A warm hand was clasping her deformed one tightly. The back of her normal hand pinched as she flexed it ever so slightly.

Her eyes fluttered open for a fraction of a second, and then slammed shut against the brightness of the light right above her. She must have made some noise – a whimper, a moan, or something – because suddenly the hand holding hers tightened, and a shadow fell over her.

'Emori?'

 _John_. His voice was distant. She almost cried out in frustration.

Pain pricked at her stomach, her back, her chest, and she couldn't escape it – couldn't find her way to him. She felt tears well.

'Hey, hey, Emori, it's okay.' John's voice was soft, soothing, and growing stronger. Closer. She tried raise her hand to grasp his, but her limb wouldn't respond. 'It's going to be alright.'

She wanted to believe him, but how could she, when she could only see darkness right now, couldn't get near to him? The first hot tear spilled down her cheek, and her stomach burned.

'Can I get some help in here!' John shouted away from her, and she flinched from the noise. It was too loud for her sensitive hearing.

She heard footsteps come racing towards her, and she turned her head in the direction she thought John's voice was. Someone placed their hand on her forehead, stroking back her hair. Not John. The hand was too soft.

Harper? Echo? Raven? She hadn't heard any of their voices.

She tried to flutter her eyes again, managed to keep them open this time. Her vision was blurry, but the dark shape in front of her was unmistakably John. Her dry lips parted in a sigh of relief, and she felt him lift her hand up to his cheek. Watched as he rested the too-large shape against his skin, felt the warmth as she began to regain feeling.

'Oxygen's looking normal.' A man's voice she didn't quite recognise. Her relief turned into anxiety, and then into disbelief.

Had they made it?

The person stroking her forehead lifted one of her eyelids slightly, and she flinched from the bright light suddenly shining. After a moment, the light vanished, and then reappeared in the other eye.

'Pupils responsive to light.' Another unfamiliar voice.

'Heartbeat's looking good. Blood pressure's a little on the high side, but that's to be expected.' Keys tapped, and Emori blinked hard, realising now that someone had secured a breathing mask to her face.

'In normal people speak?' John's sarcasm was clear, and if her muscles responded properly, she would have smiled.

'She's looking good. Strong.' A finger danced down the back of her hand, stopping near where it was pinching. 'We'll keep her on the IV for a little longer, until she regains full awareness and functionality.'

Emori blinked again, and there were two Johns. Another blink, and he became one again, more in focus this time. She could just about make out his face.

Were those tear tracks?

The pain bit back in her stomach, and she gasped. Cool fingers flattened against her heated skin. 'No sign of infection.' The man's voice was calm, detached. 'First incision's healing nicely. Second incision's showing good signs.'

'So she's going to be okay?'

A blonde silhouette appeared next to John, and Emori watched as one hand landed against the dark shoulder of his shirt. 'It's looking promising, Murphy.'

Damn right it was looking promising. Emori's determination made her work that bit harder to focus her vision and get enough strength to be able to move. She pushed the pain to the back of her mind as she blinked again.

Her vision cleared this time – or at least, she thought it did. John was clear, his lips curved in a small smile but tears racing down his cheeks from eyes ringed with red. She felt her heart lurch, but when she turned her attention to the woman stood beside him, she felt it miss a beat of surprise.

Clarke.

'Heartrate's increasing.' The male voice was still calm, but the vision she thought was Clarke glanced over in the direction it came from. 'Still within normal range though.'

The woman smiled, and blue eyes twinkled down at Emori. 'Glad to have you back.'

Emori's eyes flicked back to John, but he gave no indication of how she should react. He just nuzzled himself against her hand, trying to hide the tears she'd already seen.

She had enough strength now to be able to lift her hand a little. Instead of focusing on her mind playing tricks on her – Clarke couldn't _really_ be there, after all – she focused on what she wanted to know more than anything else right now.

John's face fell, and his other hand moved to cover hers where it lay on her stomach. He was careful to avoid where she felt the stabbing pains.

His head shake told her all she needed to know, and though she felt grief well up from her core, she felt relief, too. It was for the best, after all. She hadn't had a choice.

'John.' Just his name, that was all she could find the strength for. He smiled again, and his eyes softened.

'It's okay,' he whispered back to her, shifting closer to her. 'We'll get through it. Together. Like everything.' She could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed down the same lump she felt in her own throat. 'The most important thing is that you're alive. We made it.'

He leant forward, and his soft lips brushed the skin just above her nose. Just above the annoying as hell mask.

'She should get some rest.'

John nodded, and Emori's eyebrows rose. It was the Clarke illusion that had spoken, but John had responded as if she were really there.

But that would mean …

Her mind couldn't go there, not with the pain. Her eyes turned back to the woman, who gave her own smile. 'I'm just a call away if either of you need me.'

John nodded again, and she stepped away, disappearing beyond Emori's view.

'Go to sleep,' he whispered to her, and she felt her eyelids slide shut again. 'I'll be here when you wake up.'

Darkness reclaimed her.


	37. (XXXVII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'Bellamy, come in.'

Bellamy grunted, lending his strength to the team currently trying to shift one of the larger pieces of concrete above the entrance to the Bunker. Raven was in the Rover, waiting to be able to shift it into position once they had enough of a raise on it.

Unable to answer the radio, he nodded his head to Raven, who he knew had one of her own. A moment later, her voice echoed across the small group.

'What's up, Clarke?'

'Good news, at last.' Clarke's voice was filled with hope, and Bellamy could see more than a few pairs of ears turn towards him just slightly, Kane's included. 'Emori just woke up.'

A weight lifted from his chest, and Bellamy felt his cheeks split into a grin. _Finally_. 'She's still going in and out, and she won't be fully aware for a while yet, but she woke up. Her vitals are looking good. She's managed to speak, and to move.'

'You and Jackson are goddamn miracle workers, Griffin.' Raven sounded choked up, and when Bellamy turned his gaze back to her, he could see her wiping at her cheeks with her free hand. 'Tell her to be awake when we finally get back. I want to kick her ass for taking so long.'

His shoulders shook in silent laughter, and then in strain as he helped lift the slab that little bit more.

'You might have to get in line.' He could hear the humour she was trying to hide. 'How's it going at the Bunker?'

'Slowly.' Bellamy snorted at that. _Slowly_ was an understatement. 'Truck's out of commission. We bust the arms, thankfully after swapping it out with the Rover. The Rover's still working for now, but it's taking twice as long.' Her dark eyes sought out Bellamy, who set his jaw against the weight he was supporting and nodded.

He watched as Raven set the radio down beside her, and then carefully manoeuvred until the small platform they'd whipped up was underneath the slab. With more effort than it had taken to raise it, Bellamy and the others slowly lowered it down.

Clarke continued talking, oblivious. 'Is there anything I can do down here to help you? Send some more parts or something?'

Once his arms were free (and aching), Bellamy pulled his radio from his belt as Raven reversed. 'Doubtful. We've got a handle on it for now. Raven's calculations suggest two days until we get to the door.'

'How's Octavia doing?'

He bit his cheek at that. Inside the Bunker was eerily silent, and had been for the past twenty four hours since they'd cleared the turbine.

'As far as we know, still alive,' he finally answered, all traces of the good mood Clarke had put him in gone. 'They've gone silent down there.'

Raven spun the Rover round when she was a distance away, depositing the slab out of the way. Bellamy waited, watching.

'I'm sorry.' Clarke's answer was soft. 'I'll keep trying them from here whenever Jackson can spare me.'

'No, Clarke, you need to focus on Madi right now.' Bellamy narrowed his eyes at the stones beneath his feet. 'She needs you right now. We've got this here.'

'Bellamy –' She cut herself off, and he looked up to see Raven bringing the Rover back into position. 'I have to go. But if you need _anything_ , someone will always be by the radio.'

Bellamy smiled to himself. 'We'll see. Go keep our people alive, Clarke.'

He hooked the radio back to his belt just as Raven hopped out of the Rover, already pointing to the next slab that needed moving.

They set to it, falling into a rhythm, with Raven picking out the right bits to move at the right times, each group moving them – Bellamy in the group that lifted the heavier ones until Raven could get he vehicle in place – until finally, many gruelling hours later, they stopped as night fell again.

There'd been no more contact from Arkadia, and none from within the Bunker, but he'd heard Raven trying several times to get through to Abby and Octavia. Hell, he'd even take Jaha – just _somebody_ to tell him that this wasn't all in vain now, that they hadn't left it too late.

He'd just settled down on a patch of ground, a small portion of berries in his hand, when Miller dropped down beside him.

'Perimeter's clear,' he said at Bellamy's questioning look. 'Harper and I have been on it all day. Kane relieved us, changed us out with Echo and Indra.' He shrugged, and Bellamy just raised his eyebrows, amused smile on his lips. 'What?'

Bellamy's smile grew. 'It's damn good to see you still kicking about.'

Miller clasped Bellamy's shoulder affectionately. 'And you. How was the Ark?'

'Very Ark-like.' He grinned. 'How as the Bunker?'

'Very Bunker-like.'

They shared a laugh, and Bellamy offered him some of the berries he was holding. Miller grabbed a few with thanks. 'Seriously, though, I don't know how you managed to get by returning to the Ark. I'd have gone crazy.'

'There were days we thought we had.' Bellamy shrugged. 'We got up there by some final stroke of luck.' _Most of us, anyway_. 'Once we got everything up and running after a couple of months, it just became a repetitive job to stay alive until we could get back down here.'

'Repetitive my ass.' Miller rolled his eyes. 'You were trapped in space, with _Clarke_. Things would have been … interesting, I bet.'

Bellamy suddenly became very interested in the food he was holding, picking out the best looking one. 'I suppose that's one way to put it.' His jaw seized up, and he felt emotion he didn't want to name or release well up in his chest.

Miller's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'I'm missing something here. You and Clarke. In space. For six years. And you're not sounding too happy about it.'

Bellamy shot him a glance from the corner of his eye. 'Is there something you're expecting to hear?'

He had the grace to flush. 'We just kinda thought, considering the tension between you both since the dropship ...' He trailed off, one big hand now rubbing the back of his neck. 'So, you're not … ?'

Bellamy shook his head. 'No,' he said softly, sadly. 'We're not.'

Those emotions had him questioning whether he wanted to be, though.

* * *

 **Guys, I'm reaching the end of writing (for reals this time ... it took another turn last time I said I was). I have one big thing still to happen, and then I hit the wind up - I'm not letting it get any more out of hand after this!**

 **I'm so not ready to let this go 3**

 **But you still have loads of chapters so I'm going to stop feeling sappy now and continue getting them out to you!**

 **Also, if you haven't already noticed, I've published the start of a modern AU 100 fic with some canon compliant events to occur. It's called _The Worst Hundred Days._ Lots of exciting stuff coming in that, but with much slower updates compared to this!**


	38. (XXXVIII) Murphy

**Murphy**

Fucking finally.

Murphy helped Emori sit up against the cushions Jackson had set up on the medical table. She was still sore, but she was awake for long periods now and – mostly – sane.

Two weeks she'd been completely unconscious.

Two months before that she'd been conscious, but delirious with pain

His eyes soaked her in, tracing the lines of her tattoo and each small crease next to her eyes as she winced, adjusting herself.

'So, was I completely hallucinating for the past week, or is Clarke somewhere here?'

He smirked at her. 'Start with the easy questions, miss, why don't you?' He held his hand out, palm up, and she slid her smaller one into it without hesitation. 'Somehow, Clarke survived the absolute chaos that ended the world. Except for her and some trees, I guess. Not sure whether that says more about her or nature.'

Emori frowned at him. 'And where are we right now?'

'Arkadia.' He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. 'You sort of lost consciousness completely after re-entry. Clarke had already been here several times over the years, knew med bay wasn't looking too shabby. So we brought you here.'

She looked around, eyes already examining the tech. Murphy snorted, knowing exactly where her mind was. Old habits died hard. 'Can't steal anything from here, unfortunately. It's kind of needed in case you get bad again, or the girl crashes. Or anyone else from the Bunker needs help and decides to make the trek over here.'

He shrugged, settled himself better in the chair he'd pulled up to her beside. There was no point waiting.

'So. Can we have a chat? Maybe about how and why you decided that the perfect time to send me across the Ark on some stupid errand was the exact time we got hit by an unexpected asteroid shower in the exact area we were?'

He felt her muscles tense up, saw the quick, hesitant glance she gave him from beneath her lashes. He steeled his face as the bottom of his stomach dropped with realisation. 'You knew.'

'Yes.' Her voice was soft, and she slid her hand from his. 'You have to understand, John, I was _happy_ – I had you, and we were going to have a kid together.' She rubbed at the base of her deformed hand, and Murphy pursed his lips. 'A little you running round causing chaos on the Ring.'

She looked away, wetting her lips. 'Then I heard Harper and Monty talking. About how they weren't sure whether a pregnant person should go through the atmosphere in a spaceship they couldn't guarantee was safe, to a world they couldn't guarantee was radiation free. And then how they couldn't send a baby, either, for exactly the same reasons.'

Murphy crossed his legs, and the sunken feeling in his stomach deepened. He knew, without her having reached that part of the story, where she was going.

'I knew they were right. Knew that the second Raven got the backup power in the rocket working, _I_ would be the one holding us up. I did think about just not going. You and me, staying up there, with the baby.'

He could see it in his mind's eye. The entirety of the Ring, belonging to the two of them and their kid. Plus any more they squeezed out, of course. No more bullshit rules about one kid and one kid only.

No one at all to rule them, just the two of them keeping whatever order they wanted.

A home, right where his had been cruelly ripped away years before.

'I couldn't do it to you.' He'd almost forgotten Emori was still talking, and switched his attention back to her. 'One rocket. One chance to get back to Earth. And we had to be on it if we wanted to survive – at least our best chance.' She laughed without humour. 'What do I know about keeping a weird ass spaceship going for more than five minutes without Raven's genius mind telling me what to do?'

'About as much as I do, at a guess.' He didn't share her fake humour, voice darkly serious. Emori's dark eyes flicked up to him for just a moment until she looked away again.

'Exactly. So I started thinking … and I knew that the problem would always be that I was pregnant. So somehow, I had to _not_ be pregnant.'

'How did you know about the asteroids, Emori?'

She turned her head away, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 'I was in Raven's office. Saw the alert flash up on screen. I've spent enough time around tech, thanks to A.L.I.E., to know how to disable it so none of you knew.'

He dropped his head, deep in thought, as she continued. 'It was just a case of making sure nobody else was on that side of the ship.'

'So, you decided to potentially risk all of us because we couldn't prepare, just so you could do what, induce a miscarriage, killing _our_ child?' He scoffed. 'Of course. Makes perfect fucking sense considering my life.' He shook his head. 'You could have at least _talked_ to me first.'

She didn't answer, and when Murphy raised his head, he could see the tears slipping down her cheeks. 'You know I'd have done absolutely _anything_ for you, and you didn't even consult me before trying to kill yourself.'

'I wasn't –'

'Don't, Emori.' He didn't care that his voice had gotten harsh. 'I can't … not right now.'

'John!'

He kicked his chair back as he stood up. 'You landed on a goddamn shelf of scraps. You have three that we had to remove _without medical knowledge_ just so we could stitch you up and stop you bleeding. You had one that got infected after we landed and could have killed you. And you had one pressing against a blood vessel to the point it was starving you of oxygen.

'Do you get it, Emori? You didn't just kill the baby. _You nearly killed yourself many times over._ ' His hands clenched into fists at his side. 'Remember when we were escaping the fucking Earth that was trying to kill us, I was relieved I wouldn't have to watch you die?'

He waited until he just caught her nod out the corner of his eye. 'You made me watch you nearly die five times. _Five times_. Your heart stopped three times before we got the worst of the scraps out of you. And then after we crash landed, and Clarke wasn't sure what the hell she could do for you – if you'd even last until we got to Abby and Jackson. And then you started deteriorating with infection and she wouldn't fucking let me see you.'

'John –'

'No, Emori.' He shook his head. 'No.' He spun, putting his back to her. 'I need some air.'

He left her shouting his name.

* * *

 **I felt so bad writing this, poor Murphy 3**

 **Not as bad as I felt writing the next chapter though ... fair warning, you're going to want tissues for chapter 39. Like, a fair few of them. (And probably for chapter 40 but it's not quite as emotional).**

 **Also - named character death alert for the next chapter ... and the chapter after.**

 **Yeah I'm going to that stage of two named deaths in two chapters.**

 **Be interesting to see if anybody works out who I'm killing off before the chapters are published!**

* * *

 **Publishing a few hours early because I know for a fact I won't be on until stupid o'clock tomorrow and the updates would be way too close together otherwise.**

* * *

 **Sneaky edit - I'm so sorry about typos, my brain hates finding them and Word is rubbish!**


	39. (XXXIX) Octavia

**CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING**

This chapter deals with **euthanasia** and **child death.**

This chapter does not necessarily reflect my personal opinion and is a work of fiction.

* * *

 **Octavia**

By the time the radio squawked out Raven's voice again, they'd lost all but five of the sick.

Two hundred and ninety, dead.

Of the five still remaining, Octavia and Gaia were the only two who were likely to make it through the night. The other three consisted of a five year old girl, whose symptoms were progressing rapidly – she'd only started with the fever the morning before they started escaping – alongside her father, who'd just about made it to day thirteen.

The final number of the five was Niylah.

Octavia sat by her bedside, mask firmly in place (although she had protested its use to Abby, rationalising that she was already sick, Niylah wasn't going to make her any worse).

The blonde's lungs were straining, and Octavia could hear the wheezing as what little space remained in them struggled to cope with the massive demand placed on them. Entwining their fingers, Octavia cooed soft words to the Grounder, trying to soothe her as much as she could.

Abby stood on the other side, eyes grief-stricken but carrying one of the last syringes of morphine. Octavia had begged, as they'd watched the others slip away, that Niylah be given the dignified, painless death the drug would bring.

Niylah and Esha, the young girl.

They didn't have enough for the father, but when Abby had explained it to him, he had waved her away anyway. They'd understood his intent clear enough.

The recollection brought tears to her eyes, and she squeezed Niylah's hand just that little bit harder.

'Ai nou fir wamplei in.' Her voice was nearly non-existent, and fell into a gurgle at the end as she began coughing. The tears spilt. _I do not fear death_.

Octavia nodded, both at Abby and at Niylah, raising her free hand to rest against Niylah's soft forehead. 'Yu gonplei ste odon, Niylah kom Tri – kom _Wonkru_ ,' Octavia corrected herself. 'Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim.' _May we meet again._

'Nodotaim,' Niylah whispered, a small smile curving on lips stained red with her blood. Abby careful slid the needle beneath her cold skin. 'Mochof …'

Her thanks died on her lips as her body succumbed to the lure of the drug, going limp. Her breathing slowed, then caught. Octavia struggled not to cry.

Niylah had been there since the first day in the Bunker, the voice of reason for all rational needs – to sleep, to eat, to bathe. To be more than just _Commander_. To still be human.

She'd been like Bellamy.

And as her lungs slowed, chest falling for the last time, Octavia could almost see it. Almost see Bellamy lying on the table in front of her, blood smeared around his mouth, muscles weak.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered to ears that would never hear her again. 'I'm so, so sorry.'

Any grief she may have shown in that moment was delayed, however, by Raven's exuberant call through the radio they'd all but forgotten about in dealing with the dead and the dying.

'Could one of you, maybe, I don't know, flick the computer switch to unlock the doors so we can start getting you lot out?'

Her words didn't register at first, background noise as any transmissions had been. Then Abby's face brightened, and she dropped the now-empty syringe to the cart beside her, spinning on her heel towards the door.

'They cleared it,' she said, breathless, disbelieving. 'Oh my god, they cleared it.'

The doctor was out of the room before Octavia's mind could catch up, and she could hear jubilant shouts coming from the gathering room on the other end of the corridor, echoing back to where she still sat clutching at cold, lifeless fingers.

Behind her, the young girl started coughing, and Octavia stirred. Gaia was with her, whispering soothing platitudes. Her father clutched her other hand, weak as he was.

She was sure the only reason he'd made it thus far was so that she wouldn't see him die.

With regret, she pulled Niylah's blanket over the still-smiling face. There was nothing more she could do there, but she could help the last two serious cases.

Abby had left the other syringe out, and Octavia turned it over in shaking fingers.

'It was my idea,' she whispered to herself, breathing deeply. 'My idea, my responsibility.'

She approached with soft footsteps, and Esha looked up at her with wide, dark eyes. Octavia gave her a smile, before remembering she wore a mask and Esha wouldn't be able to see her smile anyway.

'Hi, little one,' she cooed as she sat down beside her. 'Are you excited to go back to the ground?'

Chocolate eyes blinked at her. Esha was one of the few who'd never even _seen_ outside the Bunker. Her mother had fallen pregnant five months after they'd closed the doors, and Esha had been one of the twelve successful pregnancies.

Twelve children in six years.

Only four of them were still alive, and only three had made it back to the ground.

She whimpered, and Octavia's smile fell. 'It's okay,' she whispered. 'Once you get out on the ground, you won't be in pain anymore. And I have something here that will make it all better 'til you get there, okay?'' She nodded, and as she did so, one of her long braids fell forward, brushing against the girl's pale cheek.

Esha giggled, one hand reaching out to grab it. To the side, Gaia let out her own soft laugh. 'You like them, Esha? How about when you're all better, and we can sit by the lake and eat all the food we like – even _berries –_ we do yours like this?' Octavia tickled her stomach, and the girl laughed louder.

It broke her heart when the laughter turned into coughs, and the coughs turned into the heaving of blood. Her smile disappearing, Gaia stroked a damp cloth across her forehead.

'Hey, Esha?' Octavia grasped her clammy hand. 'How about we give you some medicine to make you sleep, will that help you?'

The girl didn't answer – couldn't answer. With an anguished look at Gaia, and a quick glance to the father who lay almost non-responsive, Octavia twisted the girl's hand in her own. Exposed the delicate skin at the crook of her elbow.

'Do you remember your mother, ai niron?' Gaia took over as Octavia's throat closed up with emotion, and her arms cradled the girl's head when she finally lay it back. 'Remember how she'd sing to you, hold you close and make it feel like there could be no badness in the world, ever again, because she was there?'

The needle slid in. Esha made no noise, eyes closing. 'She's still with you, watching over you.' Gaia's voice was as choked as Octavia was sure hers would be. 'She'll never leave you, and one day soon, you'll see her again.'

'Nomon,' the girl whispered, eyes sliding shut as Octavia pushed the button to release the morphine into her system. 'Nomon.'

Two minutes later, she was gone.

Outside Medical, the healthy filed past, laughing with the joy of knowing they were about to be free.

* * *

 **I am so sorry, if this has reduced you to tears the same way it did me when writing it.**

 **I had no place for Niylah in this story, except as motivation further down the line. And Esha broke my heart to write about, but I had to explore Octavia that little bit further.**

 **There is another named character death in the next chapter - one from the show. Esha was not included in last chapter's count as she is an OC for the purpose of this fic.**


	40. (XL) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'Octavia!'

She hadn't come out with the rest of the Bunker.

She wasn't in the meeting room.

She wasn't in Medical (but he did see sights there that made both his heart twist and his stomach rebel).

Kane on his heels, Bellamy raced between the rooms he thought that she and Abby may have retreated to, hoping to see her huddled somewhere.

Safe.

Alive.

She wasn't in the command room.

Or the room Kane indicated was her bedroom.

'Octavia, where the hell are you?' He was beginning to panic now, slamming doors open without care.

Somewhere down the corridor he was in, he heard sobbing.

With a wide-eyed glance at Kane, and a tilt of his head, he took off running. He slid to a stop outside the open door.

Abby was stood in front of one of the beds, holding something tight against her chest. Gaia slumped on the floor beside her, head hanging limply to the side. Blood was smeared down her chin.

Bellamy swallowed, eyes swinging from left to right, looking for his sister.

His eyes fell on the shape in the bed, and his heart cracked.

'Abby?' Kane's voice was soft, and he carefully stepped past Bellamy. The doctor started, spine stiffening, before turning her gaze to the two of them stood in the doorway. 'Abby, what is it?'

'Marcus,' she breathed, and Bellamy watched as she fell into his arms. It was nice to see some things hadn't changed. 'Did everyone else get out?'

'I think so. Looking at the number in Medical …'

Bellamy stepped forward, jaw tight. 'Abby, where's Octavia?'

There was a pause, and Abby shifted from one foot to another. Bellamy swallowed, hard, so many thoughts rising unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

 _I'm too late. She's dead. She's drowned in her own blood. She's been dead for days._

Abby cleared her throat. 'She's in the farm. We don't have much in the way of flowers, but she's gathering what she can.'

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. _Octavia is still alive_. A small smile of relief broke through his stoic exterior. _Octavia waited for me._

Abby's broken sobs cut through his relief, even with Kane gently shushing her. With the greatest care, the other man pulled her away from the bed.

Bellamy's stomach lurched again, leaving him clutching the doorway.

Thelonius Jaha was dead.

Bellamy's eyes trailed over the limp hand, and the blood still dripping from parted lips into the dark puddle on the sheets beneath him. From the gaunt face to the protruding ribs.

The scar on his stomach from where Bellamy himself had sent a bullet into him.

The swelling around his right hip, with dark bruising spanning beneath the flimsy excuse for trousers.

'How did he …' The question trailed off, and Abby sniffed as she lifted her head from Kane's chest.

'He got sick. His body was already compromised from the rockslide so he wasn't strong enough to fight it off.' She wiped beneath her eyes, turning around to face Bellamy properly. At her feet, a small toy bounced.

Bellamy's eyes followed it, and Abby hastily bent to snatch it back up. Her voice was shaky when she explained. 'Esha … one of the kids born down here. She didn't make it.'

He dropped his head. 'That's who the flowers are for?' he guessed, but Gaia answered him with a simple, 'No.'

'We just lost Niylah.' Abby's words were quiet, and Bellamy saw Kane's muscles tense up. 'Octavia's taking it hard.'

He pushed down the grief, inhaling deeply. When he finally had himself back under control, he said, 'I need to find my sister. Where's the farm?'

With directions from Kane, he spun on his heel and began to race down the corridors until finally, _finally_ , he turned the corner to the open expanse that any and all plant life in the Bunker grew in.

And there she was.

She was knelt amongst the herbs, wrapped tightly in dark furs despite the heat the lights kicked out. Even with the extra padding, Bellamy could see she was skinny. _Really_ skinny. They'd never had much extra meat on their bones, but this was extreme.

Her hair hung in long braids down her back, and somehow they seemed to have gotten dyes – much like Clarke, Octavia had red woven through some of the braids. Just a little peek.

His breath caught yet again as she turned her head slightly. Oblivious to him, she plucked one of the herbs in blood-stained fingers.

She looked more like Aurora now than ever before. Gaunt cheeks, big eyes rimmed with red and black from stress – the way Bellamy remembered his mother being for so many years when they were afraid of Octavia being found.

He started towards her with hesitant steps, unwilling to make noise, to breathe or to blink even. He didn't want to risk dispelling this moment. Didn't want to suddenly wake up to realise they hadn't yet unblocked the door.

Six years.

Each step took him closer, melted a day, a week, a month, off of that time.

Six years.

She turned at the slight rustling as he brushed past a leaf stem, and her eyes widened as they met his. The herbs she held in one hand fell to the ground, and she stood on shaky legs. One hand flew to her mouth.

 _Six years_.

Her name was a whisper on his lips, accompanied by a joyous smile. Her eyes filled with tears, and he took another step, and another.

He was only an arm's reach away from her now, and he froze, unsure of himself all of a sudden.

Six years was a _long_ time.

But all of that was forgotten in an instant as she smiled back at him. 'I thought you were dead, big brother,' she whispered, and he laughed while simultaneously beginning to cry.

'You think some measly radiation and space is going to keep me from keeping an eye on you?' he joked back. 'You're not getting rid –'

Their banter was cut short by her coughing.

By the blood violently expelling itself from her lungs.

Her knees buckled, and she fell forward, free hand grasping at the arm he immediately threw out to grab her. He fell to his knees besides her, cradling her spasming form against him.

'Hey, hey,' he whispered into her hair. 'It's okay, O. You're going to be okay.'

She shook her head against his shoulder, unable to form words as he just held her, waiting for it to pass.

It passed when she slipped into unconsciousness in his arms.


	41. (XLI) Clarke

**Clarke**

She was being watched.

The feeling had become so unfamiliar, so foreign, that Clarke shivered as she tracked through the small forest just outside the walls of Arkadia.

There were no animal tracks. No sign anything lived within the trees that she could hunt, kill, supply meat to the injured with.

But something – or some _one_ – was definitely watching her as she paused to kneel beside a clump of mushrooms she'd accidentally learnt were a good method of pain relief ( _that_ had been a fun night). Tugging out the small knife she kept in her boot, she cast a surreptitious look around her.

There – just ahead of her. One large boot print in the middle of the path, trekking north of Arkadia. Not the direction they'd come from, so not one of the injured.

Plus, it was a fresh boot print. Less than a day old.

Besides Clarke, nobody had stepped outside of Arkadia in three days.

Sliding the mushrooms into the bag she'd tied at her waist, Clarke straightened. She didn't put the knife away just yet, and subtly arranged the strap of the rifle over her back so that if needed, she could grab it that little bit quicker.

The prisoners, maybe? She mulled the idea over as she took a few more steps, and then stopped to look at the low-hanging leaves of one of the trees.

Something crunched behind her.

She spun, one hand pulling the rifle around so she could hold it at her side, the other tossing the knife in the air so she could grab it in a better grip.

The man following her froze, hands in the air at his sides. She narrowed her eyes at him as she lifted the rifle to rest over her arm.

'Who are you?'

He licked his lips, nervous eyes focused on the gun, before he replied. 'I'm not here to hurt you or your friends.'

She raised one eyebrow. 'Really,' she drawled. 'When you killed three of my people and injured fourteen others, you weren't trying to hurt us.'

'That wasn't us.' He didn't move his eyes off the gun. 'Look, could you … please can you drop the gun?'

Clarke pursed her lips. 'Now why would I do that, exactly?'

The man puffed out a breath, clearly irritated now by her refusal. Clarke just waited, watching, until he finally dropped his hands and turned around.

'Fine. Whatever. Don't believe me.' He groaned, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

She lowered the gun, just fractionally, now that he wasn't facing her. 'Look, I just … my friends sent me to try to find food and I have no idea what's edible. We already tried some sort of berry and two of them died. We tried nuts, and we all went a bit insane.'

She snorted at that. 'Jobi nuts. They have that effect.'

The knife went back in her pocket, and she lowered the gun a little bit more. 'How long have you been on the ground?'

He cleared his throat. 'Five days … thereabouts.' He shrugged. 'Can you help or not?'

She thought it over, and then with a heavy sigh, finally dropped the gun to hang at her side. 'How many of you are there? And, for crying out loud, what's your name?'

'Err … twenty?' Clarke watched as he counted on his fingers, starting over twice. 'Twenty two. Oh, that's including Ellis though. So twenty one who need food.' Again, he scrubbed at the back of his neck. 'I'm Keller.'

'Clarke.' She took careful steps forward, still wary. 'Where are you camped out?'

'An hour or so's walk from here. But there's nothing around, which is why I've come this far.'

Clarke nodded. 'Okay. Which direction?'

'Err …' He had to think, face scrunched up as Clarke finally rounded in front of him. 'I think … that way?' He pointed south-east. 'Just beyond the weird tree that looks like a person.'

She bit her lip, looking between the direction he was pointing and the west, where Arkadia lay. 'I need to take supplies back to my camp,' she finally said, and Keller's shoulders slumped. 'Head back to yours, and as soon as I drop my things off, I'll get you some food and come to you.'

'I can't come get it with you?'

Clarke gave him a dark look. 'Considering we're housing those your people wounded, maybe not.'

'I already said –'

She cut him off with another glare. He backed down, casting his eyes to the floor. 'Whether or not it was you, my people won't trust you. They're scared.'

'You're not.'

'I don't have a choice. They're relying on me right now – which is why I won't be coming into your camp.' At his attempt _yet again_ to protest, she held her hand up. 'I will make my presence known, and I will leave the food for you. And then I will leave.'

With his bottom lip thrown out in a sulk, Keller finally nodded his acceptance. 'Fine. I'll let them know to expect a delivery soon.'

She nodded to him. 'Keller? If I see even one person threatening to pull a trigger on me, I will retaliate, and then I will leave you to starve or poison yourselves.'

She saw him swallow, but he walked off without another word, disappearing through the trees.

When she was sure he was out of earshot, she raised one hand to the earpiece that her hair had hidden. 'How much of that did you hear, Jackson?'

'All of it.' Jackson's voice was calm, methodical. 'You think you can trust them?'

She smiled to herself, turning in the direction of Arkadia. 'No. I trust that they're desperate, yes, just by looking at him. I don't trust that they had nothing to do with the shooting.' She picked her way over a fallen trunk. 'But if I know where their camp is, once I get you guys these supplies and check on Madi, I can camp out near them and keep an eye on their activity.'

'Is that a wise idea, staying so close to them?'

Clarke rolled her eyes. God, Jackson was starting to sound like her mother. 'They won't know I'm there. I do know these trees fairly well, after all.' She stepped around the hidden pit that she _still_ hadn't gotten around to filling in with moss and bark.

It wasn't until Jackson responded that she realised what she'd said. 'I guess six years is long enough to know the landscape.'

She froze mid-step. 'How did you … ?'

'Things you've said. Things Bellamy said. And Emori asked Murphy about whether you were real or not.' His voice held a tiny hint of a smirk. 'I won't pry if you don't want me to.'

She sighed, continuing her route. 'I guess there's no reason to keep it a secret. What do you want to know?'

She could hear the gentleness in his voice. 'I don't need to know anything. But I'm glad you survived.'

'You know what, Jackson?' She glanced up at the light blue sky. 'Me too.'

* * *

 **Just gonna mention, this chapter (and a few that link back to it) were written before the sizzle reel came out so I wasn't able to use Clarke's very ominous last line!**

 **In a handful of chapters you'll start seeing where I got to before the sizzle reel and where I started incorporating what I could.**


	42. (XLII) Madi

**Madi**

Considering she had a two-inch bullet wound through her stomach, Madi felt surprisingly good in herself as she pushed herself up against the pillows of her bed in the med bay.

Jackson fussed over her, patting her fresh bandages down and feeling for her pulse, before moving on to do the same for Emori. She almost laughed at the attention she was getting, but managed to keep it locked up until, satisfied, he walked out of the room.

Emori looked over at her from her bed on the other side of the room, a grin on her lips. Madi returned it easily.

They'd become a sort of friends over the past twenty four hours since Madi had woken. How much of that was aided by the mushrooms Clarke had provided, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't about to question it.

They made her feel _good_.

Of course, Clarke – and Jackson, after he'd been informed of just how potent they were – made sure that the dosage was just right, and would wear off in an hour or two.

Still. In the meantime, it let Madi move about that bit easier, and she took advantage to slide out of the bed. Her bare feet met the cold slabs on the floor, and she shivered just slightly. Emori laughed.

'You could always eat some more mushrooms!' Emori suggested, and Madi padded over to her bed. There was a very comfortable chair right beside her, and Madi sank into it with glee. It was so _soft_ and _fluffy_. 'Or some … some …' Her face scrunched up as she thought for the word.

Letting her dark hair tumble over her shoulder, Madi tilted her head into her arm. 'E-mo-ri,' she called out in a childish sing-song. 'Or … Ee-mori? Em-ory?'

The Grounder burst out into intense peals of laughter, letting up only when the bite of the stitches just managed to cut through the effect of the mushrooms.

They traded jokes, poking fun at the most mundane of things made amusing by the opiate running through their systems, until their mood was abruptly cut.

The door slid open, and Bellamy raced in, shouting for Jackson. Their laughter died on their lips as he lowered the woman he was carrying to the bed that Madi had vacated.

Behind him rushed in another woman, one who bore more than a passing resemblance to Clarke. Madi's slightly addled mind didn't put it together straight away, watching instead with wide eyes as Jackson joined her at the bed.

Madi didn't hear the words – or if she did, didn't make much sense of them – as Bellamy slowly backed away, hands fisting in his hair. Stress radiated from his every pore. She could see the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, the raised, reddened marks in his lower lip.

She threw a glance to Emori, who was staring with unabashed curiosity as Jackson and the woman tossed medical equipment back and forth, attaching some to the girl, tossing some aside as useless.

'That was a good piece,' she finally mumbled when Jackson threw a small section of tubing out of the way. Bellamy started, turning with a panicked expression to look at the two of them. 'Coulda used that.'

Madi had to suppress another laugh. Somehow, it didn't feel appropriate at that moment.

One of Bellamy's large hands landed on her shoulder, and she turned her head back up to look at him. 'You're okay,' he whispered hoarsely, looking between them. 'Had us worried there for a bit, both of you.'

His gaze turned back to the patient, and Madi lay her head to the side, nuzzling into the back of his hand. His fingers tightened, and she lifted her hands to try to hug his arm – forgetting that she was lower than he was, so she just ended up pulling at him.

He looked back down at her, and then at Emori who just offered him a shrug.

Some words filtered through from the two medics.

'- sort of suction. Clear the block –'

'- drain it out –'

'-scalpel of any kind –'

Madi tuned them out again as Bellamy's muscles tightened. She jumped out of her seat, tugging at him once more until he finally got the hint, and with an anguished expression, slumped into the seat.

She all but fell onto his lap, cuddling into his chest. He made a surprised sound, but she ignored that as she folded her legs up beneath her.

With everything that Clarke had told her over the long, lonely years, she felt she knew Bellamy. Like he was a part of the family she'd built with Clarke – a new part of the family she'd lost.

His clothes were a little on the chilly side, but the warmth of his body was seeping through, and she absorbed it, eyes closing as she listening to the bustling around of the medics.

She felt Emori's hand slide into hers as Bellamy shifted her for a better hold, and with the comfort of friends, lulled by the drugs, she fell into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER - don't do drugs, people! Even the drugs that make you happy and feel drunk!**

 **Sorry, just needed a bit of comedic relief to break up the story a little (before I got straight back into the heavier stuff ... hmm) and show that even Clarke doesn't fully know the plants in the new world yet. Also I needed some more Emori time, I don't feel like I've written her character anywhere near enough even in the rest of what I have prepared.**


	43. (XLIII) Raven

**Raven**

She was too slow to keep up with Bellamy and Abby as they rushed Octavia inside, and Gaia refused to risk infecting her, following in their footsteps to find her own way to med bay. So that left Raven stood next to the Rover, looking around her at the beginnings of rebuilding.

Some of the injured had clearly only had superficial wounds, or ones Jackson had managed to heal to a satisfactory point quite easily. They were now pulling sheets of metal and fragments of wood together, forming rudimentary shelters with what they'd found.

She considered helping them, but one attempt at stepping forward had her rethinking that – her leg, plus her still-broken arm, made any assistance pretty much useless.

At least, Raven mused, until she spotted Murphy kicking at the wires on the one piece of fence that miraculously had survived the abuse and neglect. She made her way over to him, trying to ignore the pain in her hip that flared up every now and then.

She came to a stop beside him, and he glared at her. 'Come to join in the "fuck up Murphy's life" brigade?' he asked, and she propped herself against the post on the left of him. 'Seems like I got just a six year reprieve and then it all started back up again. It's this goddamn planet.'

She crossed her arms over her chest, not wanting to interrupt his rant. She just waited, knowing that eventually, he'd break and spill whatever it was that had pissed him off.

She didn't have to wait long.

'She erased the warning, and made sure she was the only one in that sector.'

Raven frowned, confused, until he elaborated. 'Emori. That's how she got injured. She saw the fucking warning and got rid of it.'

'Why?'

He scoffed. 'Because I'm not allowed happiness?'

'Murphy,' she began, but he shook his head before she could say anything else.

'She thought about us staying up there. And now I'm wondering if that wouldn't have been the best idea. All the losers who have made my life hard are down _here_.'

'I hope I'm not included in that sweeping statement.' She smiled softly at her joke, but he didn't share in her humour. 'Look, Murphy, whatever Emori did, she would have done it for you.'

Her attempt to soothe him failed, because at that, any emotion that he may have been willing to show vanished. His face hardened.

'Yeah, well, if people just stopped doing things for me, things would go a hell of a lot better. If my dad didn't find medicine for me, he'd be alive and I wouldn't have been in the fucking Skybox and in this fucked up situation.' His fingers clasped around the metal wire and tightened, until Raven saw blood welling up from where it bit through his skin.

She shifted her weight, so she wasn't pressing as much on her bad leg. Murphy's eyes slanted to the side and then he sneered again. 'Yeah, you can start blaming me too. Again. I won't hold it against you today – just another shitty part of life on Earth, huh?'

She lay her good hand on his arm with delicate care. He jumped, but let no other expression show. Raven regarded him with sorrow.

'I'm sorry, John. About everything,' she finally whispered, and he licked his lips, turned his head away, and cleared his throat. 'If you ever need to vent again, let me know and I'll hunt us down some moonshine first, okay?'

He scoffed, but she felt the tension lessen ever so slightly in the muscles beneath her hand. 'C'mon, you could do with some sleep in a proper bed, I think. Have you even left med bay until today?'

He shook his head mutely, and Raven let out a weary sigh. 'Let's go find you somewhere.'

Ten minutes later, she'd settled him in the room that had been hers. It was a little fire damaged, a little bare – but it had a mattress, and a pillow and a blanket. And really, what more could they ask for?

Closing the door behind her, she made her way gingerly down the corridors, following paths she hadn't followed in six years. To the right of this fork, the airlock. If she continued left, and then took the next right, their prison area awaited. To the left of _that_ fork, the engine room that was likely still in complete tatters, and then her store room.

It wasn't until she found herself inside it that she realised she'd been heading there the entire time, lost in her musings as she was.

It had retained its structure – but all her abandoned experiments were shattered over the floor, bits black and charred. Ilian's explosion had clearly either hit this room bad, or triggered some of the components that weren't entirely stable.

She didn't care which, running her fingers over the battered shelves that had once stored all of her creations.

She'd put so much time into these things – little gadgets to make life simpler. Scrapped for more advanced versions (like the brace permanently adorning her leg) or just for their unfeasibility. Or, she mused as she noted a wristband she'd been designing, devices she just never got around to finishing before the proverbial shit hit the fan.

So much had changed in six years.

How was she still _Raven the mechanic_?

 _Was_ she still Raven? Or had she been forged in Praimfaya and space into someone entirely new?

* * *

 **I really feel bad for what I'm putting Murphy through, after everything he'd already been through in canon.**

 **Anyway. Sunday's chapter has another reunion, yay! Everybody's finally coming back together!**


	44. (XLIV) Clarke

**Clarke**

The prisoners hadn't left their camp in the eighteen hours she'd been watching them, hidden as she was halfway up one of the thickest trees in the forest. Some had made rounds, distributing the berries and nuts she'd left them (she decided against providing meat, instead sending a good portion of her supply to the healthy at the dropship camp) and just generally checking on the others, by all appearances.

Her earpiece buzzed to life, Jackson's ever calm voice coming through. 'Any movement, Clarke?'

She adjusted herself on the branch she'd all but become a part of, letting the rifle she was using the scope on fall to her lap. 'Nothing but a few standard patrols in their camp,' she answered, squinting her eyes now to look over at the much smaller figures. 'No sign of them leaving to go anywhere.'

She heard the rattling of medical tools on his end, and the scratching noise that was the earpiece being passed from one person to another.

Her mother's voice came on next. 'Clarke?'

Clarke's breath caught. 'Mom?'

'It's so good to hear your voice.' So much emotion. 'But right now, it would be better to see you.'

'What's wrong?' She was instantly on edge, slipping the strap of the rifle over her head. 'I can be back within the hour.'

Her mother made a noise of agreement, but didn't elaborate on the need; Clarke shimmied down the trunk until she was back on the ground and running at top speed across the uneven terrain.

A little over forty minutes later, she skidded through the doors to the med bay, out of breath and bending over, hands on her knees. Her lungs heaved, trying to pull enough air in.

When she straightened, it was to be immediately swept up into a fierce hug, her mother's arms wrapping around her tightly.

She froze, just for a moment, and then melted into the embrace. Her mother's warmth enveloped her, and she soaked it up almost greedily.

'I thought I'd never see you again.' Abby's voice was breathy, bordering on tears, and Clarke felt the first spots of damp against her shoulder. 'I thought I'd lost you for good this time.'

'Not yet, mom.' Clarke pressed herself closer, hiding her face in her neck. It was almost like she was a little girl again in that moment. From before all the nightmares became real. Before death became a part of living.

After just a few seconds, they separated, Abby wiping at her cheeks and Clarke smiling gently. Jackson cleared his throat beside them, pulling them both back to the present. Clarke turned her head, features already falling back into their serious expression.

'What happened?'

'Bellamy brought Octavia back.' Abby bustled back towards one of the occupied beds, grabbing a rag out of a bowl of water as she went. 'She collapsed just before we got outside. We need to drain her lungs and give her some antibiotics.'

Clarke nodded. 'Okay. What do you need me to do?'

Jackson answered this time. 'You know the herbs on the ground now. We don't, and we don't _have_ any more antibiotics. Can you provide some?'

She mulled it other, thinking about the properties of each of the herbs she'd come across in the past few years. Her mind settled on one she thought could help, so she nodded. 'There's a plant that grows about five miles from here, it's helped me draw out infections a few times. I don't know if it will work exactly like medicine but it's worth a try.'

Abby nodded back. 'At this stage, anything's worth a try. Take Bellamy with you. He could do with a chance to clear his head.'

'And keep your earpiece on. We'll get in touch if we notice any changes in her.'

Clarke turned on her heel, securing the strap of her rifle and her bag. 'Will do.'

It was then she saw them.

Emori was sleeping on her bed, one hand thrown over the side as if she'd been holding onto somebody else as she fell asleep. In the chair beside her, Bellamy sat, head lolled back. Grief and stress lined his face, but she could also see the comfort in it, caused by the little girl curled up against his chest.

Madi had one hand flattened against his shirt, the other tucked up against her. Hair well past needing a wash hid her face from view, but Clarke's heart swelled at just the sight of the two of them together. The thought she'd entertained briefly when bringing Madi in rose again, and to her horror, she found herself blinking away tears.

She wanted it

She wanted it so badly, but she knew in her heart that it would never happen – not now, not after everything she had fought through.

Abby's hand came to rest between Clarke's shoulders. 'Looks like they've bonded quite well in the past few weeks. Not surprising, if she survived six years alone, that she bonded with someone quickly.'

 _Shit_. Nobody had filled Abby in. Clarke stiffened. Really, she should have expected that – she hadn't been subjected to the inevitable lecture-slash-breakdown she'd expected the moment Abby laid eyes on her.

'Mom …' How was she going to explain it? How was she supposed to say she spent six years on the surface of a planet trying its damned best to kill every living thing, instead of (relatively) safe in space?

'I know that voice.' Her mother spun Clarke around until they were facing one another. 'There's something you're not telling me.' Hands callused from years of handling medical tools cupped her Clarke's cheeks. 'What's wrong?'

Clarke sighed, eyes sliding shut to avoid the inevitable despair that would cross Abby's face. 'Madi wasn't on her own. I took care of her.'

She could tell, just by the tension suddenly tightening her mother's fingers, that she'd understood. 'You weren't …'

She let her eyes open again, and the expression on Abby's face caused her heart to twist yet again. 'I was the good guy. I saved my friends, and they had to leave me behind so they could get their best chance. And it let me find Madi.'

'But you were alone?' Abby's voice was shaky, and her eyes glistened. 'How – the Nightblood? _It worked_?'

Guilt flashed over her mother's face, and Clarke hastened to shake her head, grasping at Abby's wrists. 'Mom, it's not your fault. We didn't know if it would work – and it nearly didn't. And you would never have been able to make enough for everybody. You did the right thing, getting people into the Bunker instead.'

Abby's mouth moved, but no words came out. Clarke smiled at her. 'It's okay.'

Abby shook her head. 'No, Clarke, it's not. It never will be.' She dropped her hands, breaking Clarke's hold. 'Three hundred and sixty four members of our people _died_ , all because I didn't let you test the Nightblood.'

There was no point arguing – Clarke had learned a long time ago that if her mother was set on a thought, that thought persisted.

Breathing deeply, Clarke turned away. 'I should go get the plants.'

Abby didn't move, and Clarke set about waking Bellamy and Madi.


	45. (XLV) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

Bellamy didn't really want to wake up. He was warm, relaxed and … well, sort of comfortable. His neck had a terrible ache in it from where he guessed it was thrown back just that little bit too far, but he didn't want to assess too much.

That would wake him.

The warmth was emanating from the small body curled up against his chest. His left hand, already holding them tight against him, moved further up to secure his hold in his half-woken state.

In that instant, he was a teenager again, asleep in his cabin with Octavia curled up against him. Ignoring the harsh reality of life outside of dreams – life where they had to sneak around, keep secrets, close themselves off from everyone.

The shaking wasn't stopping, even as he rolled his head and shifted his shoulder to move away. He groaned, unwillingly coming back to awareness.

'Bellamy,' someone whispered into his ear. 'Bellamy, wake up.'

 _Clarke_. Reality intruded, and the decade since he'd last slept with Octavia against him came flooding back.

His eyes shot open and down to the body curled against him. Madi, still fast asleep from where she'd climbed on him after he brought Octavia in.

Octavia.

His eyes shot now to where Jackson sat, monitoring her vitals. He could see Octavia's chest rise and fall – not quite in a rhythm, but close enough his fears were allayed. He let out a sigh of relief, slumping back into the seat.

'She's still fighting through.' Clarke's voice was gentle, and she invaded his line of sight. 'They need me to go get some plants that have medicinal properties. We thought you could do with a walk.'

'I can't –'

'I'll be connected to Jackson via the earpieces.' She shuffled closer, and he felt her fingers stroke his chest. His breath caught until he realised that actually, she was manoeuvring her hands underneath Madi. 'If anything happens, we can turn right back.'

Her other hand brushed against his thigh as she secured her arm beneath Madi's legs. 'Besides, there's nothing you can do here right now.' She lifted the child carefully, and Bellamy mourned the loss of heat and comfort she provided.

Stretching the muscles in his legs, he forced himself to stand and walk over to Octavia's bed. Someone had connected tubing in her side that was draining some sort of fluid. He had to look away from that, instead focusing on her face, pale and sweaty and pained.

She looked so small, so young.

His hand dwarfed her face as he stroked back the strands of hair that had broken free from her braids. Fierce, leader braids. A sign of how far she'd come.

His sister. Heda kom Wonkru.

But right now, she wasn't their leader. She was just Octavia, a girl who needed medicine.

Slipping his hand from her forehead, Bellamy turned to where Clarke had settled Madi on one of the spare beds and was now waiting on him to finish. He gave her a nod, and in silence, they made their way outside to where the Rover waited.

It wasn't until he was about to climb into the front seat, she broke the silence, with a pointed, 'Bellamy.'

He paused, thought for a moment, and then sighed. 'Let me guess. I won't know where to go?'

She slid past him, climbing into the driver's seat. 'Just get in.'

He did, settling himself into the passenger seat just as she hit the accelerator. He didn't comment – he was happy for her to speed to their destination. The faster there, the faster back, and the faster they could treat Octavia.

It took them a little more than ten minutes to reach their destination, which, Bellamy discovered, was the run down Trikru village near Arkadia. The one he remembered thriving years before.

How many of the villagers had survived? Or had none of them been able to gain entry to the Bunker, left to perish outside? His face hardened. Had the children who lived here at least been spared?

Clarke pulled the Rover to a stop within the main square. 'The plant we need grows in the walls of the cave system that collapsed,' she said, pushing her door open. Bellamy nodded, focusing himself again on why they were here. 'I'll hop in to get it if you don't mind helping me get back out?'

He shook his head, and jumped out of the truck. Just a few yards away, he could see the ragged edges of the ground where it fell away into what had once been the Reaper's caves. Half a building hung precariously over the edge; with a quick glance, he confirmed parts of the other half lay in pieces at the bottom.

'Nature always wins out.' Clarke stopped beside the doorway to the building, which hung open. 'Whatever we build, it eventually reclaims. Such is the way of this world.'

He glanced at her, taking in the firm set of her jaw as she peered inside. Whatever she saw, it made her turn away quickly.

Bellamy sighed, guessing just by her expression. A family home, with no family likely to return ever again. His suspicions were confirmed as she stepped away and he managed to just make out the burned shape of a ball that he'd seen children tossing back and forth.

' _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,' Clarke whispered in the direction of the house, and Bellamy's stomach dropped even further. Were there _bodies_ still in there? 'I've never approached from the ground before. Last time I picked some of the plant, we were following the tunnels, trying to map as much as we could,' she explained.

He nodded, still fighting back the thought that some poor family had lain in the house for more than six years, in who knew what state. But right now, they couldn't help. They had no way to dig graves, or to chop enough wood for a funeral pyre. Nor did they have the luxury of time.

'Let's just get these plants and get out of here,' Bellamy murmured, and Clarke nodded her agreement. He followed behind as she led the way to the shallowest drop, thoughts filled with the dead – and with the dying.


	46. (XLVI) Kane

**Kane**

They had no choice but to bury the dead.

Indra had sneered at the idea, but when they realised that not only was there no wood left in Polis, but that the only wood nearby was still attached to trees and would take days to chop down, she'd relented.

They'd instead busied themselves digging deep enough and wide enough for a mass grave, instead of two hundred and ninety three individual ones.

 _Two hundred and ninety three._

The number haunted Kane as he tossed the dirt he had just shovelled out of the way to the side, to gather on one of the piles they were building. Nearly three hundred innocent lives, people who'd hidden underground so that they might live. Dead before they returned.

There was some sort of irony there, and Kane cursed it out as he slammed the shovel down again, digging the next load of dirt up.

It took them nearly the whole day, but as night fell on their first full day outside the Bunker, Indra declared the pit deep enough.

Those who weren't helping to dig had busied themselves finding enough fabric to wrap the bodies in shrouds. Most were covered now, lined up neatly in too many rows of too many bodies for him to even want to consider. Only a few remained – two he'd requested be left until last so he could deal with them, and a handful of others, including all the children.

Seventy six children had perished, at various stages of life. Some were babies – two stillborn – and some toddlers. Nine of them under the age of five. Most of them had died with the disease, their small bodies unable to fight it for more than a day or two.

Laying down the shovel carefully, Kane wiped the sweat from his forehead before walking over to where one of Gaia's scouts knelt beside the children, carrying out funeral rites he'd hoped never to hear. 'Kom graun, oso na groun op. Kom folau, oso na gyon op. Yu gonplei ste odon.'

Kane swallowed hard as he looked down at all the young, gaunt faces. Children who'd never been given a chance. Children who'd not had enough food to eat, enough water to drink. Children who'd never breathed fresh, clear air.

Abby had handed him the toy she'd collected for Esha, and as the Flamekeeper scout finished his prayers, Kane knelt beside her small body. The small wooden carving fit perfectly in her tiny hand, and his eyes welled up as he pressed it against her chest.

'May we meet again,' he whispered, and stepped back as her shroud was carefully closed over her face.

One by one, the faces of the children disappeared.

He could feel Indra stood beside him, stoic in her own grief. Many of the children had belonged to Trikru, after all. And they'd heard nothing back from Arkadia about Octavia and Gaia's conditions as yet – he could only pray that the lack of news meant it was good news.

In silence, they turned to the two he'd taken responsibility for. Jaha, and Niylah. They lay with peaceful expressions, hands clasped over their chests, faces cleaned of the blood that had ended their lives. If he didn't know better (and didn't hate the cliché so much) he would say they were asleep.

But he did know better, as he slowly knelt between them. He did know that their chests no longer rose and fell, that their hearts no longer beat.

Their bodies gave off false warmth from the sunlight they'd been resting in all day, and he had to close his eyes to fight back grief for his friends. For Niylah, one of Octavia's voices of reason – one of the biggest reasons she hadn't caved to the pressure of leadership. For Jaha, one a close and trusted friend until tragedy fractured his mind.

Out of his pocket, he pulled the herbs that Octavia had begun gathering before she collapsed. Niylah didn't deserve to be buried without them. She'd spent years cultivating them, and Octavia had given the last of her strength in finding a way to apologise to her friend. Against Niylah's cream shirt – he'd have to thank whoever changed her out of the bloodied clothes – they stood out, pulling attention away from the sunken cheeks and purple eyelids.

He lay his hand on her forehead. 'Yu gonplei ste odon, Niylah kom Wonkru. May we meet again.'

He repeated the blessing on Jaha, substituting just the name, and then reached back into his pocket. He hadn't intended to find anything, but fate had decided that he would literally fall in front of him. The chess piece had been knocked off of the bedside surface by one of the Grounders helping to remove the bodies, and Kane had grabbed it, knowing Jaha wouldn't want to be buried without it.

Without his last connection to Wells.

Kane clasped his cooling hand, thankful suddenly that at least he wouldn't be on his own, wherever he was now. That Wells would likely be there with him. If there was such a thing as the afterlife, that was.

Indra's hand on his shoulder roused him, and wiping his tears away, he stepped back from the two bodies as a scout turned up their shrouds.

One by one, through the night, the dead were carefully placed inside their mass grave. There was no order, no clan segregation – Azgeda dead lay with Trikru dead, sandwiched on the other side by Sankru dead. Old lay with young, man with woman.

It was their last sign of respect, to disregard their differences and just bury them as the people they'd come to be to survive.

By dawn, they had begun to shovel the dirt back over the bodies. Everyone joined in, and a little after noon, they were finished.

'So, what now?' Indra grasped Kane's shoulder from behind as he leaned against the handle of the shovel he'd jammed into the ground. 'Where do we go now?'

Kane glanced at her, taking in the stress that made her eyes narrow. She was worried. He didn't blame her. 'We stop at the dropship with the healthy,' he answered, and her eyes narrowed further. 'We settle everyone in, make sure everyone is okay. And then the two of us head to Arkadia to sit with our girls.'

She nodded her assent at that, the lines around her eyes relaxing ever so slightly. 'We take the Rover – we don't need the turbines open much longer. But first, we go back through the Bunker and take any supplies that may be of use to anyone.'

Indra nodded her head again, and gestured to a group of warriors lounging on the ground. They came immediately, shaking off the ache from weary limbs. 'What sort of supplies are we looking for, Kane?'

He thought through the floorplan of the Bunker for a long moment. 'Any medical supplies Abby didn't take. Any food stuffs, any clothing or bedding we can carry. Any portable tech. If you see something you think could be useful – take it.'

The warriors grinned, and with a quick nod of the head from Indra, set off at a jog to re-enter the Bunker. Kane joined them a moment later.

The radio to Arkadia remained silent.

* * *

 **Going up a few hours earlier than Thursday because I go back to work tomorrow after a week off and after sneaking a look at my email inbox (sob) I'm not going to have much time.**

 **So early chapter 46! I can't wait for you to read 47/48 though, I kind of laid the feels on thick.**

 **So let's get through going back to work and on Friday I'll resume my proper schedule!**


	47. (XLVII) Clarke

**Clarke**

Getting into the collapsed cave system was the easy part – a twist of her body until she could lower herself all but the last couple of feet, and then a drop in which she bent her legs to absorb the shock of landing.

Getting the plants she wanted was only slightly harder. Too focused on going quickly so she could get the plants back to Abby, and therefore treat Octavia and Gaia, she managed to slice her thumb not once but twice. Cursing both times, she ignored the blood, letting it smear over leaves she'd have to wash before preparing anyway.

Getting out was the hard part.

They had no rope, nothing long enough for Bellamy to drop down to her to support her back up. And the eight foot drop meant that even with him stretching his arm as far as he could, and her standing on her very tiptoes, their fingers only just brushed.

She had no footholds to get herself any further up either, and with a groan, she stepped backwards. 'No other way about it,' Bellamy called down to her. 'You're going to have to jump.'

'With your arm?' She glared at where she could just about see his eyes under his unruly curls. 'No way, I'd cause even more damage. You still haven't let it fully heal!'

He cursed. 'My arm isn't the issue here. We need to get back, and fast.' He wiggled his fingers at her. 'Come on.'

She ran her hand through her hair, closing her eyes and shaking her head in despair. 'The _second_ my mom finishes with Octavia, she's checking on your damn arm,' she said pointedly. 'And whatever she says, you're doing, okay?'

His grin was blinding as he moved his head. 'Whatever the hell you want, Princess.'

Her heart skipped a beat, and she was sure that for a moment she just stood, gaping up at him, before logic caught up. A shake of her head later, and she backed up against the far wall. 'On three?' she called, and he made a noise of assent. His muscles tensed in preparation. 'One. Two.' She took off at a run, pushing upwards as she called out, 'Three!'

Her hand grasped the muscle just above his wrist, and his fingers tightened around her skin. She gasped, and he grunted with effort as her gravity acted on her weight. Her other hand flew up, grasping above the first.

'I got you,' he assured her, his voice strained. 'Can you get a foothold?'

She kicked her feet against the wall, scrambling for purchase. She found it, just for a second; and then the soil beneath her left foot broke apart and she fell again.

Her panicked eyes shot up to his, and for a moment, she was back hanging over a stake pit, his instinct the only thing keeping her from death. Back before they really knew each other – the very first time he held her life in his hands.

She barely registered the pain in her leg as he heaved, pulling her high enough for her to be able to get a better foothold. One that didn't immediately collapse. They both breathed a sigh of relief, and they worked together the remainder of the way until Clarke was finally back on solid ground.

Breathing heavily, Clarke slumped beside Bellamy, resting her forehead against his shoulder. She felt his chest spasm, and it took her too long to realise that it was with laughter. She would have taken offense, if she hadn't been on the edge of laughter as well.

'Six years and I'm still saving your life,' he finally said, shaking his head. 'I thought we agreed we were taking a break?'

'I agreed to no such thing.' She rolled her eyes. 'That was all you. Besides, we didn't do a very good job of it, did we?' Her thoughts weren't even on Praimfaya – she was thinking of the elapsed time between the end of A.L.I.E. and their last parting.

The kidnappings. The hostage situations. The near-war with Azgeda. The explosions.

To be fair, they had both succeeded in keeping the other alive – even at the very end, she'd kept their unspoken agreement. Kept him alive. And fought for herself.

She knew though, when his shoulders tensed, that that particular place was where his mind had gone. When he had left her behind – as far as he knew, left her to die.

'Bellamy …' She closed her eyes in regret. 'Let's just get these plants back to your sister.' _And we can work this out some other time_ , she thought, but kept that thought to herself, locked away.

There was a beat, and then he stood. 'You're right.' His voice was somewhat detached, clinical almost. 'She's waiting for us to help her.'

He turned, and she saw the reddened rim of his eyes from tears he refused to let fall. She had to clench her jaw to keep from saying something else, something that would delay them returning any longer than they had to.

'C'mon.' He held his hand out, and she slid hers into it without hesitation, using him to pull herself to her feet.

One wrong step on her right leg had her hopping backwards, wincing in pain.

She'd forgotten about the pain she'd felt as he lifted her back over the ledge, the ripping down her leg – from, she assumed as she looked now, a stray, sharp rock sticking out. One that had sliced a good six inches on her inner calf that had welled up with her dark blood.

She grimaced, and heard Bellamy's sharp intake of breath. 'Dammit,' she whispered, and lowered herself back to the ground. He followed her down.

'Shit, Clarke.' His hands hovered helplessly over her leg. 'We need to clean it out.' His fingers grasped the bottom of her trousers.

She froze, and then pulled away. 'Don't!' she breathed, heart suddenly pounding. 'We can just – we can just tie it. Wrap it for now.'

His face was confused as he looked back up at her. 'Clarke, if you scraped it on that rock, there could be all sorts of grit and dirt and God knows what else. At least wipe it down before you wrap it!'

'Don't worry about it,' she all but growled back at him. He glowered at her.

'I know I don't know as much as you about medicine, but one thing I _know_ is that wounds need cleaning.' His hands fell to her trouser leg again, and again, she shuffled herself backwards. His grip didn't falter, and she had to fight to keep from exposing skin to him.

'Please, don't,' she pleaded, voice breaking. 'Bellamy, no, I don't want you to see …'

Her pleas fell on deaf ears; with a look of suspicion and curiosity, he ripped the fabric of her trousers. Two sides parted over her calf, falling to each side.

Her eyes slammed shut, but not before she saw the shock, the horror, and – worst of all – the pity.


	48. (XLVIII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

In the six years he'd been in space, Bellamy had imagined every possible death Clarke could have suffered. He'd never imagined she'd be alive.

When he found out she _had_ survived, his mind had skipped right over everything except _the Nightblood worked_ and had instead gone straight to _we need to lead our people_.

He hadn't thought about what could have happened after Praimfaya. Hadn't thought that she could have been affected – he'd just assumed, and she hadn't really said otherwise, that she'd been fine. That she'd gotten through unscathed. A little battered and a little bruised by life, maybe, but still Clarke. Still perfect.

Seeing her legs … he had to rethink everything as his eyes traced the raised, white scar tissue twisting around her leg randomly. No defined pattern. Just scars and broken, stained skin.

Just what had she gone through in those six years? _What hadn't she said_?

'Clarke …?'

'I broke my helmet on the way back to the lab.' His eyes shot up to her face. 'Got a dose of radiation that had me knocked out for a few days. By the time I came to, the sores had developed and broken open and oozed.'

The visual almost made him gag, but her monotone somehow made it not quite so bad. But still, his heart plummeted.

 _Clarke got hit by radiation._

'By the time I got my suit off – something like a week, maybe two weeks, later, I wasn't counting the days then – the legs had stuck to my skin. I had to rip it off, and some of the skin on my legs came with it. And a bit around my waist. I did manage to get the top off before it got stuck, but that was it.'

His eyes turned back to the scars. There wasn't a single inch of skin left untouched that he could see – her entire calf, her knee, and what he could see of her thigh. Like some sort of macabre tattoo.

Before she could react, he'd ripped open the other trouser leg. The same sight met him – white scars crisscrossing rough skin.

'I guess I was getting too lucky, coming out with only small scars before,' she joked, and his eyes flew up now to the two small marks on her chest where Abby had stabbed her, under A.L.I.E.'s control. 'Those I could deal with. These … are a bit trickier.'

'Shit, Clarke.' He was parroting himself now as he turned his attention back to the cut that had started this. 'What else aren't you telling me?'

He hesitated for a moment, and then ripped off the bottom of his shirt. It wasn't the cleanest fabric around, but it would have to do for now. They had little water with them, but what he did have, he tipped onto the wad he created.

'Bellamy …'

'Don't hold back. I _want_ to know.' He pressed the wad to the top of her wound – maybe a little harder than was strictly necessary, but he wanted to get his point across. 'What else do you need to tell me?'

He heard her squeak, and then let out a long breath as he dragged the wad down, carefully wiping away blood and dirt. 'There's too much to tell, really,' she admitted, and when he pressed against the wound again, she cried out. 'Okay, okay!'

He almost gave a small smile of victory. _Almost_.

'You left your gun behind.' Her admission was so quiet he almost missed it. 'I found it, when I could finally explore. And I held it to my chin.'

He froze, almost unwilling to listen. 'I nearly ended it all. I didn't want to live in pain, didn't want to live alone for five years. So I thought … maybe I could use the gun and end it all, and then I'd be free. And so would you. You'd never know I survived, that I was left behind.'

She flinched when he wiped at the very bottom of her cut, careful to dig out the decent sized chunk of soil there. 'I almost opened the doors, too. Before the storms died down.'

'But you didn't.'

He found the courage to look up at her, at the face he'd once thought he'd lost, and his heart swelled. 'You fought it. You stayed alive.'

'I did.' Her words were little more than a whisper. 'And I suppose I owe you thanks for that.'

He was sure the confusion reflected on his face, because her features turned gentle. 'I knew you would never forgive me if, after all we went through, I took myself out of this game of life.'

He choked. 'I'd hardly call it a game,' he replied dryly.

She sighed. 'You know what I meant.'

He did. He knew exactly what she meant. 'There's something else, isn't there?' he asked as he ripped another strip from his shirt, using this to wrap around her leg. 'Something you've still not told me.'

She raised one eyebrow. 'Remember how you asked how I could still read you after six years?'

'You're an open book, Clarke.' He tied off the makeshift bandage, and then rocked back on his heels to observe his handiwork. 'I guess six years of solitude made you drop some of your shields.'

'Guess so.' She pulled her knees up to her chest, and looked down at his bandaging. 'Okay. Fine.' She inhaled deeply, burying her face into her knees so her next sentence came out muffled. 'I pulled the trigger.'

His heart shattered, and he burst out in a fury, 'You did _what_?'

She seemed to shrink even further into herself. 'I was alone and afraid, and I didn't know if anyone else was still alive or if I was the last person on the face of the Earth. And I was _eighteen_ , Bellamy. Eighteen, and the future of Earth – _of humanity –_ rested on my shoulders. Had done for _months_.'

He could hear the tears in her voice, and he fought the urge to pull her against his chest, to comfort her. 'You're still here?'

'The gun jammed. Small mercies.'

'That's why you wanted to open the doors,' he realised. 'When you couldn't shoot yourself, you wanted to walk into a radiation storm and hope it was severe enough to kill you.'

'Got it in one.' Clarke shrugged, and Bellamy felt his jaw seize. 'I yelled at you, you know. Every day for months.' He heard her scoff, but she still didn't raise her head despite the anger in her voice. 'One day after I could move around, I found paper and a pen and I drew you all. And I lined you up, one by one, on the wall, and I shouted, _screamed_ at you all for leaving me behind.'

He dropped his head. 'We didn't want to,' he reminded her.

'I know, but at that point, it didn't matter to me. What mattered was that you were gone. You, and Raven and Monty and Harper, and dammit, even Murphy. And I couldn't get in touch with my mom, or Kane, or Octavia. I was cut off from _everyone_ , from every _thing_ I'd ever known.'

Bellamy got angry then. 'You think I didn't suffer, cut off from you and my sister? You think that standing up there on that _fucking_ space station, looking down at the burning Earth, I didn't get mad at you for staying behind? At myself, for leaving without you?' His fingers clenched against his thighs, and he shook his head. 'I lost count of the number of times I yelled at you for being such a goddamn idiot, always determined to save us all.'

Her head raised, blue eyes peeking out over dirty trousers. Unshed tears glistened. 'Dammit, Clarke, the _moment_ I realised you weren't coming, that we'd have to leave without you – I would have traded places with you in a _heartbeat_!'

His cheeks burned, but he didn't even stop to realise why – didn't think about the tears he'd unleashed. 'And then when we needed you up there, and you weren't there? When we couldn't do a damn thing about Monty's hands? When Emori and Echo got sick from the different radiation in space?' He shook his head. 'They needed you. They didn't need me. They didn't need the leader who would shoot to protect – they needed the leader who would treat them. And for _six years_ I held that anger in that it was me and not you that they had – because what else could I do?

'I was too late to save you, but without you … I was half a person. Half the man they needed me to be.'

Her eyes were wide, and his voice began to shake. 'We needed you, Clarke. _I_ needed you. And you weren't there and every day I would yell at the shitty cards life dealt us both. The hand that always, _always_ separates us.'

He had to look away, hide his face from her. 'You and me, together. That's how it was meant to be. From that moment on the dropship, you a little spitfire shouting at me about toxic air – Fate decided we'd be together but always apart. Always having to fight back to one another.'

'I don't want to fight anymore.' She looked so small, so young, in light of her words. Bellamy sniffed, looking back to her. 'I don't want to ever be forced apart again. I can't do it. I can't lose anyone else, Bellamy.'

She was crying in earnest now, and he couldn't help himself; he crawled over until he sat with his chest just behind her, his arms coming up to cradle her. To hold her tight and to pray he never needed to let go.

'You're not losing me anytime soon, Clarke,' he promised into her hair. 'I'm not letting you go. I went through agony thinking you were dead – I refuse to do it again.'

'Bellamy.' She turned her head, and suddenly his dark eyes were staring into her light ones. 'Bellamy …'

He silenced her with his lips, soaking up her words and her tears and for that moment, fixing everything that was wrong with their world.

* * *

 **Okay, so until uploading it just now I didn't realise this is nearly twice as long as most chapters in this story.**

 **But yay for a bit more backstory to Clarke's six years, and a little bit to Bellamy's!**

 **Now that this is out, there are only a few more bits I need to drop before I can publish the prequel I'm working on in this universe that gives you what happened in those six years. I maybe just need to finish writing it ...**


	49. (XLIX) Raven

**Raven**

'Guess you can't teach a leopard to change its spots,' Raven called, stepping out from behind one of the shelves in the room they'd appropriated for resource storage. In front of her, Murphy was hastily grabbing whatever he could carry that wouldn't spoil.

'Screw you, Reyes.' He didn't turn to look at her, even as she limped towards him.

'The last time you tried to steal rations, you ended up letting your heart dictate what you should do, and got caught,' she reminded him. 'Guess this time you're ignoring your heart though, huh.' She crossed her arms, staring at the broad shoulders that slumped.

She knew why he was running, of course. It wasn't hard to figure out. All he'd done since the dropship was try to survive while keeping himself protected. He'd let those guards down with Emori, and now, he was bringing them back up.

She was sorry to see the open, friendly man he'd become vanish behind this cold façade. 'You know you won't stand a chance out there,' she reminded him. 'You don't know the plant life anymore. What you could eat before could well be poisonous now.'

'Guess I'll just have to trust my instincts.' He shoved a handful of nut bags into the satchel he'd commandeered from somewhere (or someone). 'If it looks like it could kill me, don't eat it.' He gave her a sarcastic smile over his shoulder. 'Thanks for the pep talk.'

'Murphy.' She grasped at his jacket as he swung his satchel up onto his shoulder. If glares could kill … she shivered. 'You really think this is the best thing for you to do? Just take off on the spur of the moment, leave the only people who know a damn thing about the ground now?'

'Did you ever think maybe I don't care?' He rolled his eyes at her, shrugging his arm out of her grasp. 'Give it a rest, Reyes. Nobody wants me here. Nobody ever _did_.'

She shook her head at him. 'Emori wants you here. I want you here. And I'm sure if you asked, Bellamy and the others would want you here too.'

He scoffed. 'I'm not likely to believe that. Emori betrayed me. You think I'm a cockroach. Bellamy tried to kill me.' He spun on his heel. 'Nice knowing ya, Reyes. Don't get yourself killed anytime soon, okay? I'd hate to die at the same time as you.'

She growled, but he was too far away, taking big steps with his stupid too-long legs. Her pathetic limp stood no chance of catching up.

By the time she got to the doorway, he was halfway to the gate; by the time she got outside, he was gone.

'Fuck you too,' Raven shouted, and was met by surprised (and disgusted) looks from those working around her. 'Not like we saved your ungrateful ass by taking you to space in the first place.'

She stood there, good leg taking all of her weight as she watched the empty horizon, expecting at any moment that Murphy would turn around and come back.

God, how was she supposed to explain his vanishing act to Emori? Throwing her head back to glare up at the bright sky, she mulled over her options.

Could she just get away with _not_ telling Emori?

She discarded that immediately. She'd grown too close to the Grounder to keep this from her – but that same closeness made her hesitant.

Damn it.

She didn't have to worry for long; as she turned to begin her trek back to the med bay, she heard the distinctive sound of an engine come closer. Clarke and Bellamy? Or someone from the Bunker? She turned her head, again straining her eyes into the distance.

The truck, with her hasty repair job to get it running – so the Bunker. Through the windscreen, as the truck drew closer, she could just about make out Kane's scraggly beard. The one he seemed to have barely maintained in six years, she thought with a smirk.

She took a few steps backwards, out of the way of where the truck ended up pulling to a stop. Monty switched off the ignition, and Kane jumped out.

'Well well, looks who's finally coming home.' She gave him the biggest grin she could muster, and Kane's face sagged in relief that didn't quite meet his eyes.

'It's good to be home.' He clasped his hand on her shoulder. 'I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk earlier.'

She shrugged. 'I get it. Opening the Bunker and getting Abby and the rest out was more important than catching up. It's cool.'

He laughed, just a short chuckle or two. 'Your dry wit is always welcome. I'm glad to see you all made it back – almost in one piece.' He nodded his head to her arm, and she rolled her eyes.

'Yeah, little miscalculation about the sturdiness of the pod we came back down in and the pressure of re-entry. No biggie.' She dropped her bad arm to her side, and gestured to the gate. 'You just missed Murphy, being Murphy and heading off on his own. Clarke and Bellamy should be back soon too. They went to gather some sort of medicine for Octavia and Gaia.'

She watched his face tighten, and frowned. 'They're still alive, Kane,' she assured him as Indra climbed out of the back of the Rover. 'They're still fighting this thing.'

Kane's arm wrapped around her shoulder, and he turned her back to Arkadia. 'How's the girl doing?'

'Madi?' Raven narrowed her eyes at him. 'I thought you'd be more focused on getting to Octavia than on a girl you'd never met before she got shot.'

He let out a weary sigh. 'I'm trying not to think of everything that killed the other sick that these two could be suffering. A gunshot wound that Jackson had already stopped bleeding before he left seemed like a good alternative.'

 _Oh_. Raven grimaced at her own stupidity. 'She's going good. Jackson stabilised her. She's moved around a bit. Climbed out of bed more times than Jackson was comfortable with, and ignored every telling off she got for it.'

His laugh was that little bit more genuine this time, and she grinned as she led him through the doors to the place that they had once called home.


	50. (L) Clarke

**Clarke**

There was something immensely comforting about being held in Bellamy's arms. Feeling his strong hands holding onto her tightly, not letting her pull back even if she wanted to. Holding her there until all her fears faded.

His lips were even sweeter than she remembered from before, not demanding, not forcing anything from her – just there, moving ever so softly against hers. Seeking only what she was willing to give.

Her mind got away from her, dreaming again of a life she'd craved for so long. Of Bellamy, holding a sleeping Madi against him, Clarke by his side. A life of peace, no more war or fighting or running for their lives.

No more _surviving_ – it was time to _live_.

Her left hand raised, and she rested it against his shoulder. Slid it up, around his neck – he groaned at the skin-on-skin contact – and tangled it in the soft curls at the nape of his neck. Gripped with the softest of fingers, nails scratching his scalp.

He seemed to like that; the kiss got that little bit harder, his lips ever so slightly more insistent. His palm flattened just beneath her neck, pulling her even closer.

She loved it.

She loved _him_.

That realisation was enough to make her panic, and remember why she absolutely could _not_ do this. Couldn't let it go any further, even though her heart cried out in fear at losing one of the only good things she knew.

She turned her head away, and his lips slid across her cheek. She felt soft, butterfly kisses below her ear, and her resolve weakened. For a moment, her fingers tightened even further in his curls. Held him closer.

And then she pushed him away.

'I can't do this.' She inhaled deeply, keeping her eyes turned away from him. 'We can't.'

His hand slid down to her waist, paused there for a second, and then retreated. It left her feeling cold, and lonely. Her eyes slid shut. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, not willing to look at him. 'I just …'

 _I'm insecure. I'm afraid. I'm stupid._ There were so many ways to end her sentence, and she didn't know which one to choose.

Bellamy took the choice from her. 'We should get back.' He stood, and for a moment, she just stared at his legs, lost in thought.

The voice in her ear distracted her. 'Clarke, how far out are you?'

She slowed her breathing, swallowed hard, and then raised her hand to the earpiece. 'We can be back at Arkadia in fifteen.' She shook her head clear of any lingering thoughts. 'What's happened?'

She scrambled to her feet, wincing at the ache in her leg. Bellamy gave her a curious look, but said nothing as Jackson's voice came back through.

Just one word. 'Octavia.'

She was racing towards the Rover before Bellamy caught on. 'Jackson, we're on our way.' All but hurtling herself into the passenger seat, she grabbed at her bag, securing it tightly on her lap. Bellamy jumped into the driver's seat.

Clarke wasn't willing to argue with him about driving, not when it was his sister's life on the line. Besides, he'd break the Rover's speed limit easily.

'I should never have left her.' His voice was quiet, filled with self-loathing. 'I should never have come here. Should have stayed with her.'

'You came to help save her.' Clarke lay her hand on his arm. 'It's okay. She'll understand when she wakes up – she probably won't even care.'

Her words did more harm than good. Bellamy's shoulders tightened, and his knuckles turned white. 'I'm not giving up on her, Clarke.'

She realised immediately what he'd assumed. 'I didn't mean that, Bellamy. I just meant … she'll know that if you left, it was to give her her best chance. So she won't judge.' She tried her best reassuring smile, but he was oblivious, too focused on the road in front of them.

They lapsed into silence for the next five minutes, until they could just see the tip of Arkadia.

She caught his glance from the corner of her eyes. 'What?'

'Your mom's going to ask questions about your legs. I'm sorry about your trousers.'

In all honesty, Clarke had forgotten about the fact he'd ripped open the legs of her trousers to better see her scars. Her eyes flitted down. One hand traced a scar pattern on her knee. 'It doesn't matter. She'd find out one way or another.' She shrugged. 'She knows I wasn't with you.'

'How?'

Clarke sighed. 'We were talking about Madi. How she wasn't alone.'

'You've been good to her.' She felt Bellamy ease up on the throttle slightly as they approached the gates. 'She's a good kid.'

'Yeah,' Clarke agreed softly. 'I've tried to teach her to be. The best I could with what little I had.' She pulled her knee to her chest, poking now at the bandage he'd tied around her wound.

He pulled a stop in front of the hangar doors. 'You did good.'

The praise made her pause, and he slipped out of his seat. Before she could regain her senses fully, he was at her door, hand held out to help her down.

She took it, and the second her feet were on the floor, they took off for the med bay, Clarke ignoring the pain each step flared up in her leg until finally, they skidded through the open doors of med bay.

She heard Bellamy's sharp intake of breath, watched as he raced to hover over his sister. Abby stood over her, wiping at her own brow as Jackson set aside the stun baton – the one they'd obviously just used to restart Octavia's heart.

 _Shit_.

* * *

 **Welp. But hey, next chapter we get an answer as to what the illness is at least!**


	51. (LI) Abby

**Abby**

'Jackson, get me the scalpel.' Abby's voice was clipped, methodical, ignorant of everything around her. She ignored Bellamy, who stood just to the side of his sister's bed, Clarke's arms wrapped around his waist as she tugged him backwards step by step. 'We need to open her up. There's too much fluid.'

Her hands were steady, and as Jackson stretched his arm out to pass her the tool, she channelled that same steadiness to her breathing.

 _One. Two. Three._ In. Out.

'Bellamy, you can't be in here for this.' Her dismissal was curt, and she didn't care. Her attention had to be on Octavia, not on her brother. 'Clarke, get him out.'

She heard her daughter shout for some of their friends, and moments later, footsteps raced down the corridor. Bellamy shouted again, even as Abby pressed the tip of the blade to Octavia's side.

Jackson's practiced hands slid a bowl underneath where Abby was opening, to catch any fluids that spilled out. And just in time, since a clear fluid erupted from the incision once she cut through the last layer of muscle.

'Forceps?'

She took them from Jackson, and twisted them until the opening was held. 'Don't suppose we have any working suction here?'

It was Clarke who answered her. 'No. Raven didn't think it a priority because we didn't need it for Emori.'

'You got the plants?' Abby spared her a glance, before turning her attention back to her patient as Clarke murmured in the affirmative. 'Good. Can you make any sort of liquid from it? Something she can ingest, or we can inject?'

'I can make a tea. There's no saline though – nothing to infuse it into to safely inject into her.'

Jackson moved, one hand beneath Octavia's chin as he worked to keep her airway clear. 'What about a paste? A poultice, around the incision, to draw out anything we can't get now?'

Abby nodded her agreement. 'It's worth a shot.'

'I'll get right on it.' She heard Clarke walk away, calling out more requests to her friends. 'You don't mind if I prepare here, and keep an eye on Madi?'

Jesus. Madi. Abby had forgotten about the girl that Clarke had taken under her wing from the moment Octavia had begun convulsing. Her gaze flittered to the child, still asleep in the chair beside Emori's bed.

'Of course.' She turned her attention back to Octavia, moving now from where she let the fluids drain to instead help Jackson clear her airways.

Several long minutes later, as she stroked her fingers down Octavia's neck, she froze with realisation.

'She was an illegal child. She never got our vaccines.'

Jackson's face was confused, but Abby continued. 'She never got the chance to develop immunity … and the other Arkers we lost – they were young or had grown sickly.'

'What are you …?'

She scanned his face, waiting for him to realise – but he didn't. 'Jackson, what are the vaccines every child born on the Ark receives?'

He frowned. 'Measles, mumps, rubella, whooping cough, chicken pox, meningitis,' he recited. 'Hepatitis, diphtheria, TB, HPV, Polio. Among others.'

She nodded, fingers stroking Octavia's swollen glands. 'Being an unknown, she didn't receive any of them growing up, and only got the basics when she was sent to the Skybox. The Grounders – they wouldn't have had _any_ immunisations. Ever.'

His eyes slowly lit with realisation. 'One of them carried a virus into the Bunker that didn't become active right away,' he stated, and she nodded.

'Someone – one of the first sick, likely – carried latent TB that eventually developed.' She looked down. 'Octavia wasn't vaccinated against TB – and definitely not against a form that's had a hundred years of radiation to mutate in. That's why she's got it, and so few of the rest of our people did.'

Clarke sidled up beside her, bowl in her hand filled with green-tinged water. 'So how do we treat TB without medicine?'

They exchanged a long look. 'We give her what we can,' Abby finally said, gesturing to Clarke's bowl. 'And we keep an eye on her. And we pray.'

With that, the three of them set back to work.

Abby applied Clarke's poultice around the incision she'd made, stitching up all but the last few centimetres to allow any final fluids to drain. Jackson manipulated Octavia's throat, helping her to swallow the dose of tea they gently poured into her mouth.

When they'd done all that they could for now – the rest was up to her – they finally relaxed; Jackson laying down on a spare bed, Clarke slumped on the floor beside Madi's chair, and Abby leaning against the wall.

'How long until we know if it works?' Clarke asked, voice timid.

Abby shook her head. 'Until she wakes up, I guess. I've only ever read about treating tuberculosis before. I've never had to treat it myself – and never been without the antibiotics we had up on the Ark.'

'Will it work on Gaia?' Jackson stifled a yawn as he asked the question. 'She's infected, but she's only just got to the stage of coughing up blood.' His eyes remained closed as he settled further into the bed. 'I bet … if we gave it to … find out …'

He was asleep before he could finish his thought, tired out from treating those injured by the gunshots, and Emori, and Octavia. Abby gave a wry smile.

'He has a point, Mom.' Clarke rested her head against the arm of the chair. 'If we try the tea on Gaia, we might see results quicker than we could in Octavia – she's conscious, and not as far advanced.'

She sighed, sliding down the wall until she sat on the floor. 'It's worth a shot,' she agreed. 'We should also probably let Bellamy in before he kills one of your friends out there.'

She'd tuned him out for the most part, but she could still hear him cursing and sobbing and threatening to hit every single person holding him back from the doors. Including Marcus, who she was trying desperately hard not to listen to.

Clarke barked out a laugh, and Abby smiled. She'd missed that laugh. 'Yeah, probably for the best.'

* * *

 **Finally a name for the disease!**

 **Fun fact: when researching, I basically typed in the symptoms and result #2 popped as pretty darn close. A few adjustments, because 100 years of radiation will make nearly everything adapt, and I was happy.**

 **No evil cliffhanger this chapter!**


	52. (LII) Kane

**Kane**

Clarke just about saved him from having to knock Bellamy out.

Kane winced as he rubbed his shoulder, sore from where Bellamy had kept throwing his weight forward, trying to fight off everyone holding him back form the med bay doors while Abby, Jackson and Clarke worked on Octavia. He could see Harper massaging her wrist, and Monty wincing as he rubbed his stomach on the tail end of a particularly vicious jab of the elbow.

The moment Clarke had stepped out, and said that Octavia was stable, Bellamy had been through the doors, shaking off any lingering hands grabbing at him.

'How is she?' Kane asked, straightening as he turned to face Clarke.

'Mom thinks she's drained most of the fluid from Octavia's lungs, and she's identified the sickness too, so we can start trying to treat it more effectively.'

'What is it?' Harper asked, and Kane watched as Clarke bit her lower lip uncomfortably. 'How likely is it to be spread now?'

He shushed her, peering through the open doors to where Bellamy was sat on the edge of Octavia's bed, clasping one of her hands tightly. 'We should be okay,' Clarke finally answered, and Kane breathed out a soft sigh of relief. 'It's tuberculosis. We received the immunisations as kids as part of the Ark birth registration and monitoring.'

'Octavia wasn't registered,' Kane murmured, realising why she'd fallen sick and few else had. Clarke nodded her confirmation. 'How long til we know if she's on the mend?'

'I was about to go find Gaia. She should be able to help us – since she's not as advanced as Octavia, we should see results from the antibiotics quicker if she takes a dose.' She cocked her head. 'Any idea where she is?'

'I'll find her,' Harper volunteered, and Kane nodded his approval as he watched Clarke sway on her feet from exhaustion and –

'What happened to your _legs_?'

They hadn't heard Raven come up to join them, but her whispered horror announced her presence just as loudly as a siren would have.

Kane's eyes flittered down, seeing the tears down both legs, and the bandage already crusting over with Nightblood. But beyond that, he could see the pale crisscross of raised scars.

He heard the three others choke over their words, and his mind raced to catch up – if she'd been left behind …

'The radiation.' He was the only one able to voice what they were all realising.

'It's over, done, they are what they are.' Clarke shook her head. 'Right now, saving Octavia and Gaia is our main focus, and treating Emori and Madi.' She pointed at Harper. 'Are you going for Gaia?'

The girl – _woman_ , Kane corrected himself – took off with one last, long look at Clarke's legs. Monty followed, careful to keep the pity hidden.

Kane excused himself from Raven's continued observation of Clarke, stepping inside med bay and heading straight over to Bellamy and Octavia.

He took in her sweat-coated face (though Bellamy was doing his best with a small rag someone had left beside her) and the three marks from where he guessed a stun baton had shocked her. Her shirt lay open, baring the majority of her chest – but someone had thought to lay towels over her breasts to preserve her modesty, at the very least.

He sat down on her other side, grasping at one limp hand. 'You know she talked about you nearly every day,' he said conversationally, and Bellamy's hand stilled. 'Always "I wonder how Bellamy's coping up there" or "my brother taught me how to do this". She never forgot you, not for a moment.'

'I never forgot her, either.' Bellamy turned his head so their eyes met. 'How was she, really?'

He scanned the younger man's expression, seeing an openness he'd only seen the once – the last time they'd "lost" Octavia. A need for answers, and a fear of what those answers might be.

He looked back down at the girl between them. 'She led, and with a relatively fair hand,' he replied, and his fingers stroked down the veins on her wrist. 'She'd always seek to find answers – once those doors closed, and we knew we were locked in until everything passed, she stopped adhering as much to the "blood must have blood". We couldn't afford it – not when humanity itself was so scarce.'

'Bet the Grounders loved that.' Bellamy's voice was gruff, but filled with a tone of pride.

Kane smirked at the memory. 'They took some … convincing. Octavia would lock them in the smallest possible room she could find. She couldn't quite find the space in the floor, but a former oxygen supply cabinet that was empty … she'd put two or three in at a time. Without food. For two or three days.' Even Indra had been threatened with _that_ punishment. She'd learnt to keep her mouth shut about punishments on the second day of the threats – with a deadline of three days before Octavia's lenience stopped, she'd obviously decided to fall in line.

'She also had to do things she didn't want to do.' Kane pursed his lips at the memories he didn't want to remember. 'Those who still defied her after three months, she had to make an example of. She tortured them in front of everyone else, and she made sure to deal each and every cut personally.'

Bellamy inhaled sharply. 'She didn't kill them?'

Kane shook his head. 'She always stopped before she took it that far. Only one person ever died for it – one of the elders from Sankru. Octavia stopped in time, but one of his cuts didn't heal well. He died of infection a week later. She stopped torturing by cuts after that. Didn't want to risk anyone else.'

'So what did she do then?' Bellamy set aside the rag, grasping now at Octavia's other hand.

'She still tied them up in public – a way to humiliate them, and to teach them not to defy – and then only gave them the scraps of food for a week. They didn't get their full portion allocated.' He snorted. 'Withhold food and the Grounders fall in line. Something to learn.'

Bellamy smiled. 'Glad to see she was still looking out for us.' He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to her palm. 'I was worried about her every single day.'

Kane's heart ached for him. 'She loves you, you know.'

He watched as another tear followed the now well-worn path on Bellamy's cheek. 'I know.'

* * *

 **So I realised I messed up a little this week. I have had 3 weeks of incomplete work weeks (I worked 1 day in week 1, 3 days in week 3 and 4 days in week 3) so my mind got very confused with the days ... so you ended up with one chapter around 1am Thursday morning, and one around 10pm Thursday evening.**

 **My bad! Hope this little bonding scene between Kane/Bellamy makes up for it somewhat! _Especially considering Tuesday's chapter 53 ... *whistles*._**


	53. (LIII) Clarke

**Clarke**

It took three days for Gaia to show any sort of improvement.

When Clarke had given her a cup of the tea, Gaia had been coughing up blood and struggling to get enough air. By sundown on the third day, she'd stopped with the blood – her coughs had turned dry and deep. Her breathing had improved slightly, too.

It was a great sign, Abby agreed when Clarke called her over. The best they'd seen.

In between checking in on the prisoners' camp, and keeping up with Madi's lessons – she couldn't drop them now, just because people had finally returned and Madi was wounded, could she? – she sought solace in the hunt.

Almost as if egged on by the return of humans, the animals had become more populous. She'd seen two deer and a boar, all within three days. She'd killed one of the deer, and the boar, and they shared the food between Arkadia and those who had settled at the dropship.

She also taught her friends about the berries, and when Kane had divulged how they'd sent off the dead, she's hastened to send someone to bury roots in the grave to help the Earth regrow.

Kane had sent word to Echo, but not all those who had emerged healthy were willing to come near the sick again, even with assurances Abby could keep the illness from touching them. Old superstitions and fear still gripped them.

Clarke didn't mind. Less people in Arkadia meant more time for her to reflect on just how much things had changed, and more places to hide away when she became too overwhelmed with company.

Madi was the only one that understood, when Clarke slipped into med bay one afternoon. She'd tried to hide the evidence of her little breakdown, brought on by someone approaching her too fast from behind and brushing against her, but the young Nightblood had grown too attuned.

In Trigedasleng, to keep Abby and Bellamy from worrying too much, they spoke of their feelings about the change in the lifestyle they'd been subjected to.

'There's too many people,' Madi whispered, clutching at Clarke's hands as three people had their wounds from the prisoners checked over by Abby. 'Too much noise, too many footsteps.'

It echoed exactly what Clarke thought, and she said as much. They'd grown used to the silence, the stillness of the land. The lack of urgency in everything.

'People need things right this moment,' Clarke murmured the following afternoon, fresh off a gathering mission where she taught several of the Grounders how to identify which mushrooms were edible – and which were _edible_. 'Too much resting on things being done _right now_.'

Madi nodded her head in agreement. 'They all _need_.'

That was true, too. Whereas Clarke and Madi had learned to survive off of what the ground offered them, and be thankful for it when they found it, those who had been in the Bunker had not yet fully understood the scale of Praimfaya.

They _needed_ meat. They _needed_ cloth. They _needed_ blankets.

They _needed_ a time before the radiation destroyed everything all over again.

All Clarke and Madi needed was a chance to slowly adjust to life with people again, the chance that had been torn away by the crash landing of their friends.

She had even entertained the idea of just packing their meagre belongings – taking a portion of the food, grabbing their blankets and weapons and her sketchbook – and running. Finding somewhere with no other humans, just to let their minds settle until they were ready to try to assimilate again.

But that idea was thrown out the window when Madi's face lit up as she remembered about the friends she'd found outside the Bunker, and Kane, eager to please her, had managed to get them to agree to come to Arkadia.

They arrived on day six of the experimental antibiotics, when Gaia's fever had finally broken and Octavia's lungs finally stopped leaking mucus. Clarke had been replacing the poultice with fresh herbs when Kane ushered the small family through.

Their excited squeals hurt her ears, and when she turned her head to berate them, she had to pause.

Madi was grinning widely, a light in her eyes Clarke had never seen. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her hands moving animatedly as she conversed with the ones she'd spent her first years with.

A part of her heart shattered.

She was no longer Madi's everything. The realisation almost sent her reeling, but the feel of Bellamy's heavy gaze on her forced her to straighten her back and continue.

The moment she'd finished, she left med bay, grabbed hold of her rifle and a small bag of supplies, and made her way to the tree she'd taken to nesting in while observing the prisoners.

It was the only place she knew was _private_ , where nobody would follow her, for fear of exposing to the prisoners that they were being observed.

It was only when she was in the highest branch that she finally stopped to just breathe. In and out, long, deep breaths to calm her racing heart and slow her racing mind. A technique she'd picked up from Bellamy at some point, no doubt.

Finally able to control her thoughts again, she raised the rifle to peer through the scope. The prisoner's camp was quiet, only one person moving around the grounds. She had to focus on him as he turned to realise that he carried his own rifle …

Her heart rate picked back up, and she moved her hand to her ear, ready to radio in – only to realise that in her haste to leave, she'd forgotten it.

With no way to contact Arkadia, she settled back to observe a bit longer. Try to get a clearer picture of what she was seeing. Her gaze scanned around the tents and cabins they'd built.

She stopped on the crucifixes.

There were two, both currently inhabited. She could see the pained expression of one of the men nailed up, and when she lifted her rifle just slightly, could see the nail through his palm supporting him.

What terrible thing could a prisoner have done, that his fellow prisoners would have nailed him to a post?

She turned her attention to the second figure, and as she took in the greasy hair and ever-sarcastic face, let out a gasp.

 _They had Murphy._


	54. (LIV) Octavia

**Octavia**

Octavia had spent enough mornings waking up with Bellamy asleep, only half on the bed, to recognise the feel of his hair without even opening her eyes.

Eight years of not having him close enough to her to sleep like that – seven of which were not by choice, one of which was as she tried to prove her independence – hadn't taken that skill away from her.

Her eyelids felt too heavy to open, but she battled against the lethargy until she was blinking up at the too-bright artificial lights above her.

 _Great_. Was she still in the Bunker? Still in Medical?

She tried to turn her head to get a wider view, but that was near impossible – she managed only a fraction of an inch to the side, and that took all the energy she had. Any more was a challenge.

At her waist, Bellamy stirred. She could feel the way his muscles tightened with just that little change of state – the transition from unconsciousness, where he clearly had fewer worries than he did in daily life.

'Octavia?' His voice was breathy, disbelieving, and she blinked at him. 'You're awake,' he whispered, and she could see the tears brimming in his eyes.

'Hey, Bell.' Her voice was weak, but the energy she hadn't had a moment before filled her vocal cords.

He returned the smile she couldn't even give. 'How are you feeling?'

'Like shit.' She rolled her eyes, as much as she could. 'Why am I indoors?'

'Medical facilities.' His answer was infuriatingly simple. 'I'm sure if you want to go out, Abby or Jackson can –'

'Bell.' She gave him _the look_ , and he stared down at her for a minute before sighing and nodding his head.

'Stupid question.' He lifted the hand she hadn't even realised he was holding, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 'It's night time out there. The stars are just as beautiful as ever.'

She closed her eyes, and felt him lessen his hold to beckon over one of the doctors – Abby, Octavia guessed by the frustratingly familiar fingers that lay against her temples a minute later. She tuned out the technical talk – _fluids_ and _fever_ and _poultice_ and _anti-_ whatevers, focusing instead on those magic words at the end of her spiel: 'As long as she's wrapped up and back in within an hour, then yes, she can go outside.'

She curled the corners of her lips up in a smile even as Bellamy's chair legs scraped backwards on the floor. Minutes later, she felt the soft fabric of a blanket wrap around her and heard the blessed sound of monitors being detached.

The motion of her bed moving made her slightly nauseous, and so she kept her eyes squeezed shut to combat it; but finally, she felt cool air wash over her.

She was outside.

Her eyes fluttered open again, and thousands of tiny pinpricks of light in the sky stared back down at her. Observing her, just as she was observing them in awe and delight.

She'd never truly seen the stars until she was sent to Earth and night had fallen for the first time. Locked in her room for most of her life, they'd had no window to view outside; when Bellamy had finally escorted her through the Ark, and past the stunning vista visible outside the window …

Her cell had had a window – all cells did – but it was small, and gave her no real chance to view outside. It was far too high, too awkward an angle for her to spend longer than a minute staring through it.

And besides, a view of the stars from space was _nothing_ compared to a view of the stars from Earth.

As Bellamy settled beside her, his warmth a comforting familiarity she'd been craving, she recalled that first night. The awe in the faces of many of the original hundred as they stared up at the inky blackness they'd only known up close before.

Everything seemed so much further away, so much more delicate. Fragile. Diamonds blinking down at the tiny planet they now called home.

Staring up again now, she felt exactly the same awe.

'Beautiful, isn't it?' Bell's voice was soft in her ear, and she nodded. 'Ever constant for as long as we exist. Though you were cut off from them, they still shone for you.' His arm came around her, and he gently lifted her neck until she lay back against his firm muscles.

'What was the story you always used to tell me? About the sisters in the stars?'

There was a beat, and then he chuckled. 'I'm surprised you remember any of what I told you. After you turned fourteen, you used to tell me they were useless stories.'

She frowned. 'Maybe they were then. But now … I don't know, Bell, now they're a comfort that I haven't had in so many years. Please, I want to listen.'

He shifted beside her, and she turned her eyes reluctantly until she could see his profile. 'I promise I won't make fun of you and your stories.'

He snorted, turning his head towards her until their eyes met. 'Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it.' But he sighed, turned back to the sky and began searching with his eyes until finally, he pointed at a cluster of stars brighter than the rest. 'Those are the Pleiades. The seven sisters. They were the daughters of Atlas, a Titan, and Pleione, a nymph.'

Octavia spared only a glance for the stars, before turning back to her brother. His face brightened with each word, each recollection of the story she'd heard hundreds of times as a child. He still had that same, youthful excitement, the same flittering hand movements as he explained his point.

He was still _Bellamy_.

She only realised he'd finished his story when he turned to look at her, one eyebrow cocked up and a small smirk on his lips. 'You zoned out, didn't you? I knew it.' But his words were in jest, and she gave him a smile in return.

'I missed you.'

His face fell, and he raised his free hand to her chin. 'I never left you, O. You always had me with you, and I always had you.'

She smiled sadly. 'I missed you, but Bell, I wasn't lonely down there.' She moved one painfully weak hand to grasp at his. 'I had friends. Family. People I loved down there. I missed you, but they kept me going.'

'O …'

'And I know you, big brother. You act like you don't, but you feel the same. You had someone keeping you going too.' She squeezed his fingers softly. 'It's time you admit it to yourself, and to her.'

He inhaled deeply. 'You don't need to protect me anymore. I'm not the girl you need to keep safe, hidden under the floor. You don't need to sacrifice your life to take care of me.' She turned her head, nuzzled into him ever so slightly. 'You deserve to find your own happiness, your own _life_.'

He was about to protest again – she could feel it in the way his chest puffed up, and she hurried to talk over him. 'You owe it to yourself, and you owe it to _Mom._ She died so we could both live – and it's well beyond time you started to live your own life.'


	55. (LV) Murphy

**Murphy**

Getting clobbered on the back of the head by what felt like the butt of a gun was never pleasant.

Even less pleasant was waking up to someone hammering nails through your palms.

Ranked a steady third on the list of _not pleasant_ for that day – not in general, in general it would probably be in ninth or tenth place – was watching as perfect princess Clarke Griffin was dragged unconscious into camp in front of him.

Murphy glared down at her. Was _this_ supposed to be the rescue mission? Clarke, unconscious and bound and thrown unceremoniously at the base of where they were building a third crucifix?

If it weren't for the gag in his mouth to stop his screams (although they'd died a long time ago) he would have sworn at the unmoving woman. What sort of idiotic faux-leader thought a one-person rescue team was a good idea?

Clearly Bellamy hadn't been involved. She'd never have been taken unconscious if he had.

He glared at the prisoner who'd brought her into camp. The boy just grinned, hefting his rifle higher on his chest. 'Fancy a nice pair o' gunshot wounds to go with the nails?' he called out. Murphy just narrowed his eyes even further.

Oh yeah, it was intimidating as hell.

'Maybe he wants a pair of shots in the girl?' The second prisoner bent down, grabbed a fistful of Clarke's hair, and jerked her head backwards. 'Although … second thoughts, looking at her, it's not really a bullet I want to put in her, if you get me!'

His companion guffawed. 'No protest here!' he agreed happily. 'Ah, I miss the ladies.'

Disgust coiled in Murphy's stomach. As much as he made out he hated Clarke – and he had, truly, at one time – he couldn't bear to hear such wretches discuss her like no more than a prize.

He jerked forward, ignoring the pain biting through his palms, and yelled through the gag so that their attention turned to him instead. 'We got a lively one, it seems! She one o' yours?'

'Go to hell,' Murphy snarled, but it came out more of a "God a heh" through the fabric in his mouth. They understood him perfectly, though.

'You don't realise, do you?' The fatter one (he'd had time to really take in their appearance now, after all) cocked his head. He was the one who'd made the lewd joke. 'You're in Hell. We're in Heaven.' He gave a smirk. 'When we're through with you, those nails will be the least of your concern.'

'I've had worse!' Again, it came out garbled. Again, they understood.

The first one rolled his eyes. 'For God's sake. Sick o' trying to understand ya.' He stretched one grubby hand up, and with a quick yank, removed the gag. Murphy spat at him immediately. 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

'I think you bastards should get back in your itty bitty space ship and fly away before you learn just who you're dealing with.'

They snorted again, and Murphy pursed his lips. 'That girl you just brought in – she's Wanheda. Now, I know you're new here and you're sort of thick, so I'll make –'

The punch cut his sentence off, and filled his mouth with blood. Knocked a tooth loose, he thought as he spat out the blood. 'Wanheda. _Commander of Death_. One word from her, you won't see the sun rise again.'

A third man joined them now, drawn by the laughter. He caught the tail end of Murphy's sentence, and just raised an eyebrow.

'Aye, and why would we believe that?'

Okay, so maybe it wasn't his best plan ever, to goad them away from Clarke hopefully long enough for her to wake up. She still wasn't moving. Jumping from possibility to possibility, while outwardly maintaining his smirk, Murphy thought of what he could do next.

The sight of his blood on the ground prompted him.

'She bleeds darkness. Not red, like us. The Commander of Death bleeds Death itself.'

Interest lit up in all three sets of eyes, and the fat one grabbed at Clarke's hair again. 'Is that so?'

The third man pulled out a knife. 'How 'bout we test this, fellas?'

Murphy wrenched forward again – but really, what could he say now to stop them slicing her throat open? _Damn fool, damn big mouth_.

They didn't slice her throat. They sliced her cheek, from eye to lip, in one smooth motion. Nightblood spilled forth, and for a moment he waited for the shocked reactions – the reactions Skaikru had shown with Lexa and Ontari's blood the first time they'd seen one of them.

He certainly didn't expect the sigh, and the disappointed looks as they turned back to him. 'Aye, she has the black blood. She bleeds Death nae more than I do.'

The knife sliced the man's palm this time, and black blood welled.

Well if that didn't just sum it up …

Murphy's jaw clenched. 'Where the fuck did you get Nightblood?' he spat out, and was rewarded with another punch to his now throbbing cheek.

' _We_ ask the questions here, lad.'

He spat out another mouthful. 'Then go ahead. Question. You have me nailed to a fucking crucifix. I'm not going anywhere.'

The man in front of him grinned slyly. 'That's not our job. You'll get to meet the bossman for that.'

With that little threat, they grabbed Clarke, tossed her closer to the half-built crucifix, and then left.

* * *

 **Who didn't almost forget that today was upload day? (Totally not me, I swear ...)**

 **Anyway. Time to start the drama properly ... and I had to give Murphy some of his character back now, didn't I? ;)**


	56. (LVI) Kane

**Kane**

It took them two days to realise there was something wrong.

Madi was the first to question Clarke's absence, followed quickly by Abby and then by Bellamy and Kane.

'She must have gone to observe the prisoners.' Kane spread their half-burnt map across a table in med bay, letting Abby, Jackson and Bellamy crowd around him. Octavia let out a small noise of annoyance, but with twin looks from Kane and Bellamy, rolled her eyes and slumped back against her pillows. 'Do we know where they are?'

Jackson tapped a spot on the map. 'I think they're here. She says they're an hour away and near the old amusement park ruins, which are here.' He traced his finger a short distance to the crisp edge of the map, where he recalled somebody having once drawn a Ferris wheel to symbolise the park.

Kane nodded. 'Do we have any idea what the landscape around there's like now?'

'Clarke set up base in a tree, so there's at least some forest at a reasonable distance for her to see their camp through a scope.'

'Okay, so we can have some cover as we approach. Do we know anything else?'

Jackson shook his head, and Bellamy grunted beside him. Abby's face was hard. 'How many guns do we have, and how many people can we spare?'

Bellamy cocked his hip against the table as he mentally counted. 'Nineteen usable guns – and whatever was in the Bunker. Raven's been trying to fix up the others. We need to keep at least four guns and people here, and four at the dropship – so eleven guns we know we can take, plus whatever Raven's fixed.'

'Okay, so we find out how many Raven has working, and then we take anybody who can manage a decent shot and who can be spared. We leave some guards here, and some at the dropship – people we can trust. Everybody else we take.' He tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. 'We give Skaikru the guns, and any extras go to those Indra feels are trained enough. All other Grounders take their swords or bows.'

'There's only four Grounders who could hit a target repeatedly,' Octavia piped up from her bed, and four heads turned to her. 'What? I was helping them train. Most hit the targets by fluke, or couldn't deal with the recoil.' She pushed herself up with weary hands until she was sat, and Bellamy rushed to rearrange her pillows behind her.

'Did Yelende make it out of the Bunker, Kane?'

He nodded, thinking of the fierce warrior woman from Azgeda. She'd been intimidating, and one of the first that Octavia had felt the need to punish when she attempted a coup. She'd since fallen in line – and there'd been no signs of her reneging on her promise in the five years since she finally swore fealty.

'Good. Get her to round up her warriors. She was training them in the Bunker just in case anything happened – and I think we can safely assume this is something we could use them for.'

'She's at the dropship. Harper took a radio out to them yesterday – we can get on to them and get her to begin preparations.'

Octavia smirked. 'Don't forget to remind her if she even tries to undermine me, she will feel my wrath. There's no more need for me to hold back.'

He didn't like the bloodthirsty look in her eyes – but what could he say about it? She was entirely in her right to want to punish the Grounder if she stepped out of line, and considering the circumstances …

'As soon as we're done here I'll get in touch with her.'

He turned his attention back to the map, despairing at how outdated it was in terms of landmarks. They needed a more accurate map –

'Did you or Clarke ever map out the ground?' he asked Madi, suddenly realising they had one of the best resources possible sat in their midst.

Bellamy's intake of breath behind him reminded Kane that only Harper had so far disclosed what had happened, but the lack of intake from Jackson or Abby alerted him to the fact they both knew as well. Some secrets just weren't good at being kept.

Octavia began to interrupt, but stopped when Madi clapped her hands and nodded. 'In her sketchbook. I'd never been far beyond my village, and with the landscape so barren in places and the cave systems collapsing, she started sketching it out.'

'Where's the book?' Bellamy stepped forward, bending his knees until he was level with Madi as she sat in the chair beside Emori's sleeping form. 'Did Clarke bring it here?'

Madi nodded again. 'She kept it in one of the bedrooms. I can take you to it?'

Kane glanced to Bellamy, who nodded his willingness. 'If you can, please, Madi,' he said softly, and the girl jumped up. Kane almost winced at the thought of her stitches – they'd stopped giving her the mushrooms they'd been using as pain relief, but her wounds looked to be on the mend. And it seemed she was a very resilient child too.

What did he expect, really, if she'd survived time after Praimfaya alone until Clarke found her?

'You get the book, I'll start thinking up a plan of attack with Octavia,' Kane murmured as Madi grabbed at Bellamy's wrist to drag him from the room. Octavia made a noise, and when he looked at her, she'd crossed her arms over her chest and was giving him the deadpan look he'd grown familiar with over the years. 'See if you can't find Indra while you're out there too.'

Bellamy nodded his acknowledgement, and the pair left med bay as Kane turned towards Octavia.

'Well then, guess we need to get our battle heads back on.'


	57. (LVII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

Madi led him to a room just two doors down from his. One hand resting over her side where the bullet entered, she pushed the door open with a heave.

'She always used to come here and shut the door behind her. Sometimes I'd hear her yelling, sometimes there'd be nothing. But she always had her sketchbook with her.' She headed straight to the shelves in the corner, fiddling with one of the boxes of ammo that nearly all guards in Arkadia had always kept close by.

She returned a minute later with a small, leather-bound journal much like the one he remembered Lincoln possessing. 'She didn't think I knew where she stored it. Never thought I saw her hide it when we were here – she'd bring carry it everywhere, but whenever we bunked here for a couple of days, she'd put it somewhere safe.' She frowned, suddenly thoughtful. 'She never told me why she did that.'

The book felt surprisingly heavy as Bellamy took it from Madi's outstretched hand. 'There's stories in there, too. Sometimes at night she'd tell me about you all from what she wrote down.'

'What stories did she tell?' He backed towards the bed, settled himself down and gestured for Madi to join him.

Madi grinned. 'She told me about the hundred and one coming down from the sky. And she always made sure to tell me one hundred _and one_.' She nodded her head at him. 'Could never forget you!'

He froze, finger just inside the cover of the journal. 'She told you I was the extra on the dropship?'

'She told me you did it so your sister wasn't alone.' Madi bounced a little on the bed. 'Then she told me about how you saved her life for the first time, and then you kept saving her.'

'She saved me too.' His admission was soft as he carefully opened the cover. The very first page was an illustration of the Ark as it had once been, all twelve stations joined against the perforated darkness that was the universe.

'She told me that. But she also told me that you saved her more than just saving her life.' Madi shuffled closer, peering at the book with him. 'You kept her mind clear and forgave her the sins she couldn't bear.'

He turned the page. This page had a drawing of a man he vaguely recognised as Jake Griffin – Bellamy had seen him around the Ark a few times when he was repairing things, but had never truly interacted with him before his death. Clarke had his eyes.

'What else did she tell you?' His eyes turned to the matching page, where Abby's portrait was smiling at something in the distance. There was a softness in her face that Bellamy had never seen. Was the portrait a memory from before Jake was floated?

Madi rested her head against his arm. 'She told me about the Mountain Men, and how you snuck in to help save your friends. And about A.L.I.E. – I never fully understood that story, but she always made it to be a grand adventure.'

He turned the page again. This time, it was Wells – a person Bellamy hadn't thought of in _years_ – who looked out at him stoically. He was drawn half-shrouded in darkness. In contrast, Charlotte's face looked out at him from the other side, drawn with lots of blank space to represent light.

He couldn't deny the pang of emotion as he looked into the face of the young girl he'd failed, and Madi's hand lay just above his elbow in comfort. 'She told me about Charlotte. About how you both tried to help her, but the monsters were too strong for her.'

He turned through page after page, seeing the faces of his friends, both dead and still living – Finn and Raven, Jasper and Monty, Harper, Monroe, Miller and Bryan, Jackson, Kane, Octavia, Lincoln, Lexa, Indra, Niylah … There were so many faces immortalised forever in her drawings.

There were places, too. The dropship, as it had once been; the valley it inhabited. Arkadia, when it was still Camp Jaha. Mount Weather. The Polis tower. A place he could only assume was the City of Light. Becca's island – the beach, her house, her lab.

Scribbles of words accompanied each drawing, and some pages were filled with words, the stories that Madi had mentioned.

He scanned through a few of them, stifling chuckles where he could see she'd made substitutions in deference to Madi's age. The trouble on the Ark wasn't detailed, just that the Ark was "dying". The Grounder's weren't named, just referred to as "monsters" – he guessed that one was just in deference to the fact Madi was one of the ones they'd have given that label to at the start.

The irradiation of Mount Weather was referred to as "making them all pay – and they left the hundred alone". Pike's ill-treatment of the Grounders was largely ignored, just a mention of "the adults didn't understand, and they tried to help the kids get rid of the monsters, but they weren't monsters anymore".

His personal favourite was her description of Octavia after she won the Conclave – "the brave hero who united everyone". What better way to describe what she'd done? His fingers hovered over the drawing of Octavia in full conclave war paint, sword in one hand and tokens dangling from the other.

Clarke hadn't witnessed that moment, but she'd captured it so perfectly it took his breath away.

'Your sister is beautiful,' Madi murmured, and Bellamy choked back the tears. _God_ , he felt like that was all he'd been doing lately. Six years of holding back his emotions, and they had come back with a vengeance.

'She is. She takes after our mother.' Bellamy turned the page reluctantly, and found this time the map he'd been sent to find. An overhead sketch, with points of interest highlighted. The next seven pages were closer sketches of these – Arkadia as it was now; the collapsed cave system near the Trikru village; the caves near the dropship; the dropship; the dropship graveyard; the ruins of Polis; and an empty valley he didn't recognise. A place Clarke had found shelter?

'We should get this back to Kane, work out how to get to the prisoner's camp.' He closed the book before he saw any more sketches that could trouble him. 'We need to get Clarke back.'

* * *

 **So this is where I got to when the SDCC sizzle reel got released, in case you can't tell! So the story took a bit of a turn from here, but hey, it's all part of the fun this story has become.**

 _ **So much for 20k words tops like planned right back at the start ...**_


	58. (LVIII) Clarke

**Clarke**

'I can't believe you fell out the fucking tree and right into their arms.'

Clarke glared at Murphy, trying to ignore the men tugging her restraints tighter around the crucifix they'd just finished constructing. He'd said little else since she made the mistake of telling him how exactly she got captured by the prisoners.

'In my defence, I was a bit distracted by seeing you nailed to a plank of wood,' she bit back, and he snorted.

'You were concerned about me? I'm so touched.'

'Shut it, the both of you!' One of the men gave an extra fierce tug to Clarke's ropes, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as it bit into the barely scabbed rope burn she'd given herself trying to wiggle her wrists out. The men seemed to take pleasure in that, and they did it again.

'I'm going to kill each and every one of you,' Clarke promised when they finally stepped away, satisfied with the knots they'd made. 'And I will make it _last_ and it _will_ hurt like no pain you've ever had before.'

They snickered amongst themselves. Murphy rolled his eyes behind them, but backed her up. 'She's done it before. What was it, princess, three hundred Mountain Men?'

'Three hundred and eighty two, counting Emerson.' She raised one eyebrow at the men in front of her. 'Three hundred and eighty one of them died at the same time. Man, woman, child, I killed them _all_.'

'And we've killed hundreds too,' one of the men boasted, inflating his chest as far as he could. But Clarke saw the slight hesitation in his companion's eyes. 'Aye, between us we killed near five hundred o' the men holding us prisoner.'

She forced out a bitter laugh. 'Between you? I killed those people _alone_.' A slight exaggeration, maybe, but she continued. 'I've killed hundreds more, too. _Thousands._ More than I can even count. Some directly. Others I chose to leave behind, knowing there was certain death awaiting them.'

She definitely wasn't imagining the fear springing into their eyes then. Her hands were drenched in blood, and as much as she hated it, sometimes it worked to her advantage.

Even the one trying to prove his dominance had deflated some, eyeing her with more apprehension. ' _I started a war that killed thousands_.'

Again, an embellishment – but she certainly had had a hand. She'd helped arrange the flares to signal to the Ark, and those flares setting light to a Trikru village, as accidental as it had been, had begun their brutal fight for survival.

'Don't listen to her. She's full of talk.'

A fourth man approached from behind her, and she strained against her bindings. 'She bears our blood. She is a criminal just as we are.'

Keller.

He rounded the crucifix, smirk on his face as he met Clarke's narrowed gaze. 'A criminal will say anything to get their way. You should know that, boys. Now, get to it. Get the nails and the hammer. We need to fully secure her.'

'I should have known you were a liar. How long have you _really_ been here?'

'A few months.' He shrugged as the three others raced off. 'But I didn't lie about the need for food. We were struggling. So thanks for your help – we've now got a plentiful supply, thanks to you showing us what is edible. And a few of our men not surviving very long on those crosses.'

'Go to hell, Keller.'

He laughed. 'I've been there, don't worry. This place is much nicer. Different than we remember, but just about liveable.' He looked around him, at the barren landscape broken only by the structures they'd made. 'We thought about settling in your crashed ship, but we decided we'd had enough of being inside. A hundred years in space does tend to have that effect.'

'You missed all the fun then.' Clarke raised one eyebrow. 'Would have been nice if you landed say, four or five years ago. You'd have been _truly_ free then. Nobody else on the ground _at all_.' She tried to shrug, the best she could given the fact her arms were spread to either side. 'Then again, you'd have been blown apart by radiation.'

'Wow, you're on fire today, princess.' Murphy laughed, and Keller twisted his head briefly to observe him. 'That's usually my job, you know?'

Clarke laughed, and Keller's attention snapped back to her. 'Anyway, Keller, what do you need from us now? What more could we possibly give you?'

'Oh, my dear, it's not what you can give us.' He grinned. 'My men have been confined for years. They're enjoying the freedom – and they're missing their … let's say, indulgences?' He tapped his cheek in thought. 'Yes, indulgences.'

Something uncomfortable settled in her stomach. 'You see, when we had just your friend here, we were trying to work out who got the honour of satisfying their cravings first. We have Rick, who's particular about torture. John, who's fond of hanging. Ewan, fond of slitting throats – you can see how those two don't match up.' He shrugged. 'We tried to decide who got the kill.'

Murphy's eyes flashed darkly, slightly panicked as they met hers. 'And then we saw you climb into your tree. Not so stealthy, were you? So we waited. And you did us the honour of falling off of your branch and right into Gregor's arms. Saved us so much hassle. And of course, the men are excited at the sight of the first woman they've seen since they woke up.'

'If _any_ of them touch me, I will castrate them,' she threatened, and Keller just laughed.

'It would be a little difficult, considering you're about to be nailed in place.' He gestured to the men returning now, one carrying a hammer, another with a handful of nails. 'Oh, and if somehow you manage to do anything to my men … your friend loses a limb. For _each_ injury my men get.'


	59. (LIX) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'We leave just after dusk,' Bellamy declared, tucking a pistol into the waistband of his trousers. 'On foot. That way, we arrive in the dark – we set up observation points, use the scopes to locate Clarke and any key points of the prisoners' camp that we need to focus our fire on.'

Kane nodded, lifting his rifle and checking the magazine. Abby watched them both with concern from the side. 'Our first priority is getting Clarke back. As soon as she is safe with us again, we try for a prisoner of war, find out whether there are any more prisoner camps.'

The warriors they'd gathered together, some Ark born and some ground born, nodded their understanding, grabbing for their own weapons. Guns, knives, swords, bows and arrows, whatever they felt most comfortable with.

Raven approached him from the crowd, arms filled with boxes of ammunition. Monty trailed behind her, and Harper behind him. As gunners secured their weapons, they relieved them of their loads.

They weren't taking either of the vehicles – they were minimising the noise they would make to give the prisoners less chance of knowing they were approaching. Anything to give them that little bit extra advantage that they would need if they were going to pull a rescue off.

'Until we get Clarke back, we shoot to incapacitate _any_ person we see who is not one of ours,' Bellamy declared, magnifying his voice so all present could hear him. 'Kill only if you have no other choice – we want to get prisoners of war where we can, so we can find out if there are any more of them out there. Any other camps that we need to know about.'

Raven handed him the last box of ammo, one eyebrow raised. 'You think there are _more_ of them out there?'

He hardened his gaze. 'We have to assume that there are more than Clarke's report. Madi said the prison ship wasn't small. There would have been more than twenty people on it, so the question becomes _where are the rest of them_?'

She conceded the point with a tilt of the head, closing the lid on the empty box once he'd filled his pockets with spare bullets. 'An hour til you leave?' she confirmed, and he nodded. 'I can probably make you some bombs in that time?'

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. 'How many can you make?'

She gave him that sly grin of hers that almost always ended in trouble. 'How big do you want them to blow?'

With a shake of his head, trying to deny his amusement, he turned his attention to where Madi was kicking her legs over the edge of the Rover. She held Clarke's journal in her lap, flicking idly through the pages as people bustled around her.

'What?' Raven called after him as he began to walk across, her amusement barely masked.

It was only when Bellamy settled himself beside her that Madi acknowledged him. 'I never noticed before,' she murmured, one hand resting against the page with drawings of the dropship. 'Clarke always told me about you all, and showed me pictures of every single one of you … but she never drew you in this journal.'

Bellamy cocked his head. 'I'm not sure I follow.'

Madi flipped through the pages again, showing him the faces. 'She drew Jake, and Abby – her parents, the engineer and the doctor. Wells, her best friend who she grew up with; Charlotte, the young girl you took under your wing; Finn, the spacewalker and Raven, the mechanic …' With each name, each description, she flipped to the page.

He watched as she counted, more and more, until she was finally at the last two pages. He hadn't looked at those when she got the journal out, and found himself fascinated. _Clarke drew her enemies, and the innocents._

'Dante, the leader of the Mountain Men who just wanted to save his people. Maya, the innocent she had to sacrifice for the sake of bringing down the bad guys and saving her friends.' She flipped the last page over so they were looking at the very last drawing. 'Ontari, the Nightblood commander she couldn't help.'

She closed the book, and Bellamy frowned, still not understanding. Madi sighed. 'She never drew _you_. She carried everyone she cared for around with her, but she didn't draw _you_ in here.'

'Should she have?' he asked softly, carefully stretching one arm around the youngster's shoulder. She leaned into his embrace seemingly without a thought. 'My story's not one to be told easily. It's dark, and depressing, and at times was dangerous. It's not exactly bedtime reading.'

He didn't feel the same heaviness he'd have once felt at admitting that. For the first time, the depression that had clutched his heart since his mother was floated didn't tighten its grip.

Madi bounced up beside him. 'That's not true!' she gasped. 'Clarke told me as much of your story as she could – how you'd do _anything_ to protect your sister, and to make her happy. How you stowed away down to the ground, and then you kept as many people alive as you could. Fought as hard as you could. Time and time again in the face of unbeatable monsters.'

She thrust the book at his chest, almost angrily. He raised his hands to hold it in place reflexively. 'If anyone deserves to be in here, it's you, Bellamy.' She tapped the cover, and he glanced down. 'It was always your story. Yours and Clarke's.'

Their story?

He mulled the idea over in his head. It sat surprisingly well as he carefully lowered the journal to his lap. 'We'll get her back, Madi.' He looked over at her again. She was on her knees, face flushed with what he guessed was part excitement, part fear. 'We'll get Clarke back, and then you can ask her about it, okay?'

She nodded eagerly, and before he could react, threw her arms around his neck. 'I believe in you, Bellamy,' she whispered into his ear.

His heart swelled.

* * *

 **Bellamy would be such a good father.**

 **Now I want a Bellamy just for me. Darn it.**


	60. (LX) Echo

**Echo**

It felt so good to have a bow in her hands and a quiver of arrows on her back again, with a sword hanging at her side. Echo had spent years with some form of weapon on her and had felt their absence dearly while in space.

The foreign yet familiar weight of them was reassuring as she cleared the last of the scant trees outside the Arkadia settlement, an army five hundred strong behind her. Some were still marvelling at the trees and the grass, but most had a single focus – joining those at Arkadia to march against those who had killed their people before they'd even had a chance to enjoy being returned to the ground.

To her side, Yelende adjusted her twin blades. ' _Skaikru and their bloody technology,_ ' she muttered in Trigedasleng. ' _What's wrong with a nice cabin? Why ruin it with … with metal and machinery and all sorts of unnatural things_?'

' _Those same unnatural things kept us both alive through the end of the world_ ,' Echo reminded her. ' _Or would you rather have holed up in an Azgeda cabin and been killed_?'

Yelende sneered. Like all Azgedan warriors, she longed for a brutal death in battle – that, and only that, would redeem her failure. ' _They defy nature._ '

Echo was saved from finding a response by the small group of warriors beginning to pass through the gates of Arkadia, Bellamy at its head. The majority waited just outside the gates; Bellamy and Kane walked forward, guns nestled on their backs and knives strapped to their legs in preparation.

She walked forward to meet them. 'You have a plan of attack?'

Kane nodded as Yelende joined them. Harper was just a few steps behind. 'We arrive while it's dark, and spread out in the treeline – under as much cover as we can. Take vantage points. Scope out the area. Shoot any attackers, but do _not_ kill them unless you have no other choice,' Bellamy summarised. 'Once we have Clarke, and at least one prisoner of war, we show no mercy.'

Yelende seemed to like the sound of that, if the smirk was anything to go by. Echo bit back the frown she could feel forming. 'Are we sure they have her?'

'She left two days ago to observe them and there's been no contact since,' Kane said, glancing at the rapidly darkening sky. 'Even if she isn't with them, she'll need help and we need to keep an eye on the prisoners – know how many there are, what sort of power they've got.'

Harper adjusted her grip on the rifle she was holding. 'That's a good enough reason. When do we leave?'

'Now.' Bellamy spun on his heel, heading back to the other group. Echo watched as he took charge, barely listening to Kane as he issued orders that Yelende relayed back to the others not as fluent in English.

The two groups merged easily, and Echo found herself at the front of the pack with Bellamy, Kane and Harper. Yelende had fallen further back, whispering furiously with some of those she'd spent years training.

'I don't like her,' Harper declared out of nowhere. Kane scoffed, and Echo failed to suppress the smirk.

' _Nobody_ really liked her in Queen Nia's court.' She stroked the curved wood of the bow. 'Until I found myself in Mount Weather, she was an outsider. Not trusted by any of the War Council. Even by Azgedan standards, she was too brutal.'

Bellamy turned his head in thought, and Echo raised one eyebrow. 'How can someone be too brutal for Azgeda? I've seen you fight. No holds barred. Anything goes.'

Echo met his gaze firmly. 'She slaughtered a family of farmers. Her only reason was that they had not given her the full ration of eggs the year that we all suffered a harsh winter and we lost a large number of hens.' She swallowed. 'Including their three children – the youngest a matter of months old.'

Silence fell over the three Arkers, and she could see the disgust and loathing that took them before their masks fell back into place.

The remainder of the march was silent.

Just as the moon broke over the horizon, they arrived at their destination. With a hand gesture, Kane signalled for them to spread out to observe. Whispers of sound reached Echo as Grounders fanned out. Some scaled trees, nestling amongst branches with the foreign familiarity she felt handling the bow.

'Radio silence,' Bellamy whispered, and those who had radios nodded their acknowledgement before they too scattered. 'Echo, you good?'

She nodded, and with soft steps, found her way to a vantage point with a decent view and a decent space for her to feel air currents in preparation of shooting arrows.

The prisoners' camp had only one light source, but that light source was a bonfire in the very centre. Echo's eyes trailed over it, seeing the small, dark spots that were the people. She counted four of them around the fire – three sitting, one standing.

She narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of two fixtures on the very outskirts of the fire's light. Crosses. Like the ones that had once adorned Polis under Ontari's rule.

The prisoners had prisoners? Her jaw clenched, but her eyes moved on, counting four other buildings she could make out. Only one had any light in the windows, punctuated by shadows as people – or perhaps, just one person – crossed back and forth.

Her gaze turned back to the bonfire, where one of the men had lit a torch. Another copied him, and they split in two separate directions – one to what she guessed was their ship as the light reflected off the metal, and the other to the crosses.

The light caught a familiar mop of dark hair, and a sarcastic face just possible to make out from the distance. Her jaw tightened even further.

Blonde hair shone in the light, turning weakly, and Echo growled.

They definitely had Clarke. And they also had Murphy.

* * *

 **Yay for a new POV! There aren't going to be many Echo chapters - I'm not sure at this stage if one I'm currently doing will be hers or not - so enjoy!**

 **I don't think I've said it for many chapters, and I've seen a few notices - so _thank you_ to all the new followers/fave-rs and thank you to everyone who's been leaving feedback. It means a lot!**

 **Finally: I'm hoping to publish the start of the prequel to this in a few chapter's time (there's a Clarke POV that is coming up with the final few bits of information about her six years I want to get out before I spoil it) - it will be three very long chapters, focusing on each area. I have the basic outlines for Space-kru and Wonkru but if there's anything you want to suggest might have happened, that you might like to see, let me know and I can probably work something out!**

 **Tears x**


	61. (LXI) Clarke

**Clarke**

As night fell, Clarke regained consciousness. She'd passed out as they hammered the second nail through her palm. A matching set, one in each hand. The ropes had been loosened to the point she was held mostly by the metal pinning her to the crucifix, but not far enough she could contemplate escape, even if she managed to rip her hands free somehow.

Head lolling to the side, she parted her eyelids just enough to be able to observe Keller and his friends as they sat around the bonfire they had going. They were laughing, joking about something inane as they tossed back the berries she'd taught them were safe.

If only she'd known and had chance, she'd have given them the poisonous ones.

Hindsight was a bloody marvellous thing.

Murphy was awake, watching her. She managed to raise her head just enough to show him she was aware.

The throbbing in her hands had taken away any energy she'd had, and the ache in her ankles wasn't helping as gravity forced her weight onto them, bowed as they were given where the footrest of her crucifix was. Her shoulders hurt too, struggling with how stretched out her arms were.

She could feel the cut on her cheek burning, too, and she could just see the black crusting on her cheek whenever she cast her vision down. The thought of infection worried her – Murphy had been a little sketchy on how long she'd been laying on the ground with an open wound before she'd woken up and they'd started binding her.

The thought of infection led her to the thought of Bellamy. That, in turn, led her to Madi.

What were they thinking? It must have been days by now. Were they worried? Had they even realised she was missing?

The only reason they hadn't thought Murphy missing was the fact Raven had seen him, and told them he had chosen to leave with some of their rations. Previous knowledge of him – he hadn't quite changed _that_ much – suggested he would have survived at any cost.

Clearly, that cost was his freedom.

The prisoners noticed that they were both awake, and jubilant cheers rang out. 'Finally! Now we can have some good proper fun. It just isn't the same if they're unconscious.'

Murphy grimaced. 'I thought it was only you they were after. Clearly, I'm wrong. Again.'

Clarke sighed, watching as Keller stood up from whatever he'd used as a seat. 'Hold your horses, Matias.' He approached, eyes appraising. 'You'll appreciate it better when you can see everything properly.'

There was a gleam Clarke didn't like in his eyes. 'That doesn't mean we have to be without a view, though. This shirt …' His finger trailed across her stomach. 'This shirt needs to go.'

He ripped it down the centre before she could react, exposing most of her chest and stomach. She yelled in protest, starting to pull forward against her bindings until the pain reminded her it wasn't just the rope holding her in place.

'No need to fight it. The men could do with a preview. Helps them build the anticipation.' He gave her a wink as he pulled the edges of her shirt open wider until it felt to the sides of her breasts – thankfully still covered by her bra.

A clammy palm rested over her stomach, and she jerked backwards this time, trying to escape the skin contact. Keller's hand stubbornly remained, tracing around her side. He paused when his hand rested over where she knew there was scar tissue.

'What's this now?' he murmured, gesturing for one of the men to bring him a torch. They did so quickly, casting more light over her. Clarke glared at them all. 'Well, looks like the perfect princess has her flaws. How'd you get this?'

Fury flared at the use of the nickname that she'd once hated, and she didn't answer him.

He didn't like that – she barely saw his hand as it struck her cheek, catching on the healing wound and sending a new wave of blood down her cheek and into her mouth. She let it gather as his hand settled over her side again. 'How did you get this?' he repeated.

She spat the blood at his feet. 'Go to hell.'

He _tsk_ ed her. 'That's not the answer I'm looking for.' His fingers closed around the side of her waist, and he squeezed. She grunted at the pressure and the bite of pain. 'You know why I was put in prison?' Again, she didn't answer, and he smirked. 'You don't care. Well, I don't care that you don't care.'

He released her, taking a step back. Clarke's eyes shot quickly to Murphy, who'd passed out again at some point during the exchange. 'I killed a young girl. She was fourteen.' He smirked. 'She was such a pretty thing too. Blonde, like you. Blue eyes, like you. Pale skin – but not as pale as yours. Flawless, though.'

She set her jaw tightly. 'She trusted me. It was easy, really. She was so small, so innocent – I tied her up, took her innocence from her, and then wrapped my hands around her throat. She had such a small throat … and the noises she made …' He trailed off, eyes closing in remembrance.

Clarke felt sick. 'It took them two years to find her body. Only took them a month to trace it back to me and another week after that to arrest me. Not that I minded.' He shrugged. 'I knew about their space programme, knew it was an option. Made myself a model citizen. Got chosen to be given the blood and when it took, they put me into cryosleep.'

He turned from her, taking steps towards Murphy. 'Served me well. Got me here. Landscape's changed a bit, and I'm pretty sure we're in another country, but beggars can't be choosers.'

'Is there a point to your spiel?'

'Just letting you know what you can expect. My men will have their way with you and have their fun. And then, when they're done, I've reserved the right to kill you myself.'


	62. (LXII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

They knew for a fact they had Clarke when her yells reached them.

Warriors tensed, weapons raising to chests as eyes narrowed to sharp focus. Bellamy swallowed, hard, casting his scope around trying to locate her –

He found her bound to one of the crucifixes, one of the prisoners in front of her. She was illuminated by the torch one of the other prisoners held high over her while another practically mauled her. Her shirt flapped open, his hand flat on her stomach.

'They have her.' His words were quiet, anger barely restrained. 'On the crucifix.'

Kane nodded in his peripheral. 'They have another prisoner too. Across from her.'

Bellamy moved his rifle so his scope was focused on the second prisoner. It took him a moment to focus, but he recognised the profile hanging low against their chest.

'Fuck. They have Murphy too.' He lowered his weapon, and Kane followed suit. 'I count fourteen outside.'

'Three shadows in windows. Unknown how many others.' Kane glanced behind him, at those ready to attack. 'It's your call, Bellamy.'

He raised his rifle again, looking back at Clarke. Her head was hanging to the side, the bastard's hand raised as if he had struck her. The fury that roared through him was white-hot and blinding, compounded by the sudden realisation that she couldn't move because she wasn't just _bound_ – she was _nailed_ in place.

He wanted to fire, to shoot and kill and slaughter. Anything to save his people.

But as his jaw tightened, he recalled one of the last instructions Clarke had given him before they were separated. _He had to use his head and not just his heart_.

He didn't like logic, sometimes.

'We wait.' He tightened his grip on his weapon. 'Unless they're about to kill either of them, we wait until we have a proper idea of how many there are, and where they're stationed.'

He could see the questioning look from Kane, the doubt in his face. He didn't return it.

They watched for hours, with no more words spoken. Bellamy's scope focused mostly on Clarke and Murphy, only occasionally spinning out to check on the locations of any other prisoners. Apart from the lights being extinguished, there was no other movement.

And so, he always returned to her.

Her shirt still gaped open, but her head lolled to the side now, a match to Murphy. She was unconscious, and had been since a particularly vicious punch to the jaw. Thankfully, her lack of consciousness meant a lack of attention from the prisoners.

At dawn, prisoners started to congregate around the fire that they were allowing to slowly burn out. First, a few, and then, as the smell of food caught on the window and blew back to them, the remainder.

Twenty two men.

They gave them ten minutes, to make sure that everyone had gathered, and then Bellamy turned to Kane.

'Each sniper takes a target. Once we have as many down as we can, move in with the other weapons.'

Kane nodded his acknowledgement, and relayed the orders back. 'I've got the one who had his hands on Clarke.' He was easy enough to identify – Bellamy had been following him through the scope all night. He was clearly the one in charge of all the others. They looked to him before taking their food, and when he spoke, the others stopped to listen.

He centred the crosshairs over the back of his head. He was eager to do it, and damn the consequences. But again, Clarke's damn instruction played through his mind.

Logic told him a kill shot served no good.

But damn, the thought was appealing.

He turned his crosshairs instead to the man's legs, aiming for his right knee. A way to immobilise him without killing him … at least not straight away.

'Everyone's in position and ready.' Kane secured his own rifle. 'On three.'

One. Bellamy shifted his shoulder to lessen the impact of recoil, pushing against a fleshier part of the joint.

Two. He inhaled deeply, stabilising his heartbeat.

Three.

It had been so long since he'd fired a gun, let alone a rifle, he'd forgotten just how much it kicked back. He hissed through his teeth, the recoil jarring his arm with enough force it made his wounds begin to throb again.

Chaos reigned in the prisoner's camp. Thirteen of them went down, clutching various body parts. At least one had shifted since the shooters took aim, and went down with a bullet just above the ear, dead before he hit the ground.

Bellamy's shot missed. He'd been just a hair behind everyone else, and the leader had taken advantage of that jerking his body to the side. The bullet hit the ground harmlessly. _Fuck_.

He adjusted his aim, and around him, he heard second shots being let loose. His joined them, aiming not for the leader this time, but for the one approaching the crucifixes. His aim was accurate, and the man went down with one hand flying to cover his shoulder as he lost his footing.

The leader jumped up, and raced towards the crucifixes. Bellamy took aim again, but this bullet missed his knee by a fraction.

Three more went down by the fire, one felled by arrows.

A fourth bullet landed in the leader's stomach. He jolted, but he didn't go down, instead grabbing at an axe someone had left beside the crucifixes. Bellamy aimed again.

The axe was faster than his focus, and he heard Murphy's jolt into awareness with a scream of agony.

His bullet was true this time, and the leader fell with a bullet hole right between his eyes.

Nineteen were down by now, and the three that remained were trying to hide. Two fell quickly as their feeble cover collapsed under the force of gunshots.

An arrow took out the final one, landing squarely through his neck.

Murphy's screams faded to moans, eclipsed by the yells of pain and fury from the prisoners.

* * *

 ***shifty eyes***


	63. (LXIII) Octavia

**Octavia**

'Where the hell are they?' Octavia glowered at the gate to Arkadia, supported by Raven's arm around her waist. She was still weak but she was determined to wait for her brother to return, even if that meant she had to stand outside all day and all night, and all the following day.

Abby wouldn't be happy about that, but it wasn't like Octavia gave a damn about what Abby said most of the time. She'd gone six years ignoring the woman when she didn't like what was being said, so why should she change now?

Raven grunted, helping her to take the final few steps until they reached a log someone had lain on the ground for use later. Octavia sank to it gratefully, lungs already sore from the effort of walking from med bay. Raven wasn't faring much better with her leg.

Octavia had questioned her on that. Raven had answered with a simple, 'Crash landed and knocked a few bits and pieces.' It was only at Octavia's prompting that she'd been given the full story, which also explained why Emori was in med bay along with a Nightblood child she'd never met before.

It also explained some of the cryptic comments that had been made around the time in space, considering not everyone had made it up there – and one who she definitely remembered banishing with the aim of leaving her to Praimfaya somehow surviving instead.

She couldn't be too mad, though, when Raven filled her in on how vital Echo had been to Emori at each stage of her recovery. Every life saved was worth it – there were far too few humans to lose anyone that could be saved.

Except the prisoners who had opened fire on innocents revelling in returning to the ground. Those, she wished she could join the slaughter of.

They'd lost enough to the damn illness, it wasn't fair that they'd lost some to violence within hours of escaping.

She didn't realise she'd spoken aloud until Raven snorted. 'The damn lives we live aren't fair, in case you hadn't noticed.'

Octavia had to concede that point. 'Alright, so tell me more about how insufferable my brother was. I need to pass the time not worrying about those idiots coming back.'

Raven smirked. 'I seriously don't know how you put up with him in your room for so long. We had the whole Ring and yet he still found a way to make it feel small.'

'He has that effect.' Octavia's memory cast back to her childhood, and the smile that grew on her lips was fond. 'But he was always good at making small spaces feel really big, too. His stories would make me feel like I was anywhere but our room. Somewhere spacious, endless.' Always somewhere safe, where she didn't have to worry about inspections, or making noise or anything that would give her presence away.

Her mother, as much as she'd tried, had never been able to give her that experience. That was a Bellamy thing.

'If you say so.' Raven shrugged, stretching her bad leg out in front of her. 'He was good up there. He kept a fair hand. Yes, he rode our asses a few times to get stuff done but if he saw an issue he'd ease up. Especially on Monty.'

Octavia nodded, recalling what Raven had told her earlier about Monty's hands, and Jasper. 'It must have been tough for him, losing his best friend and the use of his hands.'

'He had Harper to keep him going. Most of the time.' She massaged the muscles above her knee, above the brace, and Octavia turned her focus back to the gate. 'They had a few fallings out, but trapped in space for six years, there isn't much to do and holding grudges wasn't high on any of our lists.'

It was Octavia's turn to snort as she understood Raven's meaning. 'So if Monty had Harper, and Murphy had Emori, that left you, Echo and Bellamy, right? How the hell did you three cope?'

Raven raised a cynical eyebrow. 'You really want me to answer that, about your brother's sex life?'

She grimaced. 'Wait, no, forget I ever asked. I love my brother, I do, but I don't want to know those sorts of details.' Thank _God_ he'd never had a girlfriend on the Ark that he brought home. She would never have coped if she'd had to have hidden under the floor while he took them to bed.

The very thought of that made her shiver with disgust, which elicited a laugh from Raven. 'Never, _ever_ , talk to me about this again.'

'Not a problem, it's just as awkward for me.'

They both resumed their watch in silence for nearly half an hour, before Octavia finally spoke again.

'How much did it hurt him, to leave her behind?'

She knew she didn't need to elaborate. Raven's features fell, and she looked down at the dirt beneath her feet. 'He wouldn't speak about her after the first day,' she finally answered. 'Whenever Clarke came up in conversation, he'd excuse himself or try to change it. And he never mentioned her by name, except for once. Never mentioned you by name either, for that matter. You, he referred to as "my sister" at all times. Clarke, he referred to as "she".'

'He doesn't take loss well.'

'No kidding. We held a celebration after we got all essential life support systems online. You know, to honour the girl we thought died to save us. Found some alcohol that got left behind, cracked open some of the nicer rations we managed to get up there with us … and Bellamy sat by the window the entire time, staring down at the Earth.'

Octavia could picture it perfectly. It sounded very much like her brother – hell, it sounded like something her mother might have done. Always looking for the person missing. 'But he was okay, other than missing her?'

A warm arm wrapped around Octavia's shoulders. She hadn't realised how cold she'd grown. 'Yeah, he was okay. Kept us all going, kept us all sane on the days we were ready to float ourselves. And he never gave up hope he'd see you again.'

'We have this habit of coming back together.' She shivered, and Raven's arm moved to her waist. 'Thank you, Raven. You haven't said it, but I can tell by the way you're talking – the way Bellamy was talking – that you're the reason he didn't completely lose it up there. You were what he needed for that time.'

The surprise on the other woman's face was tinged with sadness. 'I was no Clarke.'

'There's only one Clarke.' A small smirk appeared. 'You did what he needed. And you brought him back to me. So thank you.'

Really, she should have expected the embrace that followed.


	64. (LXIV) Clarke

**Clarke**

Murphy's screams roused Clarke from semi-slumber she'd managed to fall into. She jerked her head up, just in time to see Keller collapse, dark blood welling from between his eyes.

The gunfire took a few moments to register, and when it did, she jerked herself back into the crucifix as far as possible to minimise herself as a target. Her brain, not yet caught up, told her only _danger!_

Around her, the prisoners moaned in pain, clutching wounds made by bullets and – was that an _arrow_?

Realisation swept across her. _They've come for us._

She was about to call across to Murphy in jubilation when she realised why his screams had woken her. Someone – Keller, most likely – had buried an axe in the wood of the crucifix.

Right through his palm.

It hadn't been a straight throw. She could see that half of his hand was still attached perfectly, but his palm had been severed at least two fingers in – probably more, but the angle she was at and the blood already spilling forth made it hard to judge.

There was noise from beside them, dozens of hurried footsteps, but Clarke didn't look away as Murphy's screams turned into sobs. The nails in her palms kept her from being able to help him, but they didn't stop her struggling against them, ignoring the pain flaring up her arms.

'Clarke! Stop!'

Her eyes jerked down to Bellamy, who came to a stop in front of her. Kane and Echo stopped in front of Murphy's crucifix, and her eyes returned to them. 'You need to get him down _right now_ and stop the blood loss!' she called, desperately, and Echo shot her a glance. 'And then you need to get him back to my mom!'

'Clarke!' Bellamy grasped at her legs, and she looked back down. 'It's okay. We got this.' His gaze scanned her critically, narrowing in on the cut on her cheek and the nails through her palms. 'Did they have a hammer or anything to pry those nails out?'

She shook her head, unsure, and he cursed. 'Miller, find a goddamn way to get the nails out – hammer, crowbar, pliers, _something_.'

Clarke shook her head, even as Miller raced off and others moved in to secure the prisoners who were still alive. 'You get Murphy out _first_. I can hold on a bit longer.'

'You have nails through your palms, Clarke.'

'And Murphy has an axe through one of his, and was nailed up for three days before they got me.' She glared down at him. 'You are getting _him_ down first, and you are having the fastest people here get him back to my mom for treatment before he loses too much blood or his wounds get any more infected.'

'She's right, Bellamy.' Kane joined them, looking up at her with pity. Clarke hated it. 'We need to get Murphy down first. The entry wounds are already showing signs of infection.' He focused on her cheek. 'You okay?'

'I'll live.' Clarke gave him a tense smile. 'How's Madi, and Octavia?'

Miller raced back before either could answer, handing over two crowbars. Kane took them without second thought, spinning back to Murphy. Clarke watched as he handed on bar to Echo, and between them, they wedged them underneath the nails as Miller and Harper positioned themselves to grab hold of him the second he was released.

'Madi's okay.' Bellamy's soft voice made her turn her attention back. 'She's great, actually. Back on her feet and running around. And Octavia's doing good. She's been outside briefly, and she hasn't coughed up blood for nearly two days. Your mom thinks that's a good sign.'

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived as Bellamy continued.

'Madi showed me your map.'

The map. The one she'd drawn in the same journal she drew in to tell Madi stories not long after they'd come together. Her shoulders seized. 'I guess that means you know I told her almost everything, but a less intense version.'

He nodded, and he kept his gaze turned away. 'You made me out to be a good guy.'

Her heart broke for him, and she nudged him with one foot until his dark gaze turned back to hers. 'You _are_ a good guy, Bellamy. You always have been.' When he started to shake his head, she nudged him a bit harder. 'Okay, you made mistakes in the beginning, but you were rebelling against the system that made your life hell for twenty three years. That's allowed. As soon as you got that out of your system, you were _amazing_. You were _good_.'

Across from them, Miller caught Murphy as the nails finally came free. Someone had discarded the axe while they'd been working. With gentle arms, Miller and Harper turned him over until he was lying on his back on the floor while a small team of others rushed to put together a stretcher out of the supplies they could get their hands on.

Clarke watched as Bellamy swallowed, those tense lines appearing around his mouth. 'When we get back to Arkadia, I'll go through the book with you. I'll explain why I said what I did for each part of the story,' she promised as Kane turned with the crowbar.

She hissed as the metal met her palm, pressing uncomfortably until he was beneath the lip of the nail on her left hand. Bellamy grabbed the other bar from Echo, and copied Kane's pose. 'On three?'

Clarke nodded, gritting her teeth as the men counted down, one, two, three.

She was pretty sure she screamed as the nails were yanked out, and the pressure from the crowbars bit into her hands. It was only the ropes and the warm body her knees hit that kept her from completely collapsing.

The ropes weren't a problem – someone produced a knife, and sawed through them with efficiency until she finally collapsed fully against Echo. The Grounder's arms were tight around her waist, supporting her, and Clarke was glad for it.

She was dimly aware of Kane shouting at someone to the side as Echo manoeuvred her into Bellamy's hold, and then together they lowered her to the ground. Darkness swam across her vision as the pain from the past few days caught up to her.

At the edge of unconsciousness, she recalled a passing comment from Keller to one of his friends, and slapped at Bellamy's arms weakly.

'Bellamy … they weren't all of them … they were on the run from the rest.'

* * *

 **So some of you may have noticed, I posted a new fic yesterday - In Between, We Exist - which is the first of 3. It's my interpretation of how the 6 years may have gone, because what I am writing was getting long. The first chapter deals with the first 6 months for Clarke, and the next chapter will probably go up in 2 weeks or so.**

 ** _it's totally not a way to procrastinate getting over the block i have writing the last part of in the light, nope, definitely not_**


	65. (LXV) Abby

**Abby**

 _Help needed. Wanheda and the one called Murphy seriously injured._

She ran. Faster than she remembered ever running before.

 _Wanheda seriously injured._

The words rang through her mind.

 _Clarke._

The prison camp came upon her faster than she thought it would. Smaller than she thought, but the Grounders leaving in groups made it feel large.

 _I just got you back._

It wasn't hard to locate her daughter – she looked for the cluster of Sky People at the core of the Grounders, some of whom were pulling bodies out of the way.

None had Clarke's distinctive red streak.

'Marcus!' Abby called, and the moment she saw his face appear over the heads of other Sky People, she raced forward, shouldering her way through the people surrounding her. They must have understood her urgency – they moved out of her way until she had a clear path to finally drop to her knees.

Clarke was leaning against Echo, hands folded over her stomach. Nightblood coated her hands.

Had she been shot? Had she been stabbed? Abby's mind raced with possibilities.

She'd just lain her fingers against Clarke's pulse when she spoke, weakly.

'Murphy first.'

Abby ignored her, lifting her hand to secure a grip against her pulse point.

The blood wasn't from her stomach – _it was from the holes in her hands._

'No.' Clarke tugged her arm back, and Abby watched the pain that flashed on her daughter's face. 'Murphy … they had him longer. Axe …'

She spared a glance over to Marcus, saw Murphy on the floor beneath him, face pale and blood trickling from the side of his mouth. He needed help – desperately, from the looks of it – but so did Clarke …

'Mom.' Clarke's eyes were pleading. 'Help him.'

Abby closed her eyes in anguish for a moment, and then determination filled her. 'Pack those wounds. _Tightly_. Stop the bleeding,' she ordered Echo, who gave her a nod of understanding. Yanking open the medical bag she carried, Abby dug in it until she had one small dose of pain relief. 'You know how to inject?'

'Yes.' Echo closed her fingers around the offered vial and syringe. 'Murphy needs you.'

With one last, pained look at Clarke, Abby stood and spun on her heel to hurry across to instead kneel beside Marcus.

'What have we got?'

'He was nailed to the crucifix. Not sure how long. A few days more than Clarke.' Marcus lifted the boy's right hand. 'One of the prisoners was faster than we were, but his aim wasn't perfect. He took an axe to the hand, but only partial.'

Her assessment was fast, critical. 'He's lost a lot of blood. We need to get him back to Arkadia.' Her gaze lingered on his hand, at the split two thirds of the way down his palm. Was there anything she could do about it? Or was he going to lose it?

'Somebody get me a stretcher!' she yelled, and the sudden bustling behind her told her somebody was obeying her. Digging in her bag again, she pulled out a wad of clean bandages. The first roll, she tossed to Echo for Clarke's hands. The second, she unravelled as she took Murphy's hand.

She reviewed her assessment as her fingers met cool skin. 'He's going to lose use of this hand,' she said, slipping into her role as doctor. Her voice evened out, became clinical. 'If he's lucky, we can save the hand but he will lose feeling and mobility in at least seventy five percent.'

It was a big _if_ , and she wasn't sure what sort of damage had already been done from however long he'd been hanging by just the nails. Or how long the infection had been festering.

She'd almost forgotten about the earpiece Jackson had thrown to her along with the medical bag. God, how could she be so stupid as to forget?

One hand flew to her ear, and she pressed the switch to begin transmitting. 'Jackson, I need you to prep the med bay for surgery. Get as much alcohol and anaesthetic substances as you can. And we need blood.'

'Understood.' His voice was just a brief whisper in her ear, and she dropped her hand again to tighten the bindings she'd wrapped.

'Abby …' Bellamy's voice was hesitant, and she cast her gaze up to where he sat just beyond Murphy's head. 'You need to tell Jackson to get Emori out of the way. If she sees him like this, she'll fight and probably set her recovery back.'

She didn't question his judgement, relaying the order to Jackson, who promised to do his best. By the time she was satisfied with the packing and binding of his hands, and had given him a shot of pain relief, a stretcher had been created and now lay behind her.

'Marcus, Bellamy, can you lift him?'

They nodded, and with a single glance between them, went one to his head and one to his feet. Abby moved until she was able to push the stretcher to lie alongside his body. 'On three. One, two, three.'

They lifted, and she pushed the stretcher underneath him. When they'd lowered him again, she stood. 'Raven's got the truck – we hit something on the way and she had to sort something. She should be here any minute.' Her eyes drifted back to Clarke. 'Get him ready to load the second she gets here. If she's not here in five minutes, we carry him back.'

She only just heard their murmurs of assent as she drifted back to Echo, who now cradled a sleeping Clarke. Her hands were bound, but her dark blood had already begun to seep through the white cloth. 'When we get back to Arkadia,' Abby said carefully, even as she raised her hand to brush some of Clarke's sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead, 'I need you to go to Emori. She needs to stay away from the med bay for a while, but she also needs to remain on bed rest. Can you do that?'

The Grounder gave her a smile. 'I'm sure I'll find a way. Will they be okay?' Her head tilt took in both Murphy and Clarke, and Abby's lips thinned.

'I hope so,' she finally answered, just as the truck roared in the distance. 'I'll do the best I can, but it's up to them to fight.'

They never caught a break.

* * *

 **So apparently I can't count anymore. I tag each chapter with numbers in my main document, so today I searched for "65". And discovered somehow I completely missed chapters 65, 66 and 67 and this was tagged as 68.**

 **It's not, by the way. This is definitely 65. I just apparently forgot those three numbers existed when I was tagging.**

 **Too much post-apocalyptic shizzle to remember numbers.**


	66. (LXVI) Clarke

**Clarke**

During the agonisingly long year Clarke had spent alone, she'd known more pain than ever before. The burns on her body, sore and slow healing. The bite of the first rainfall after she'd stepped outside – still black rain, still painful despite the Nightblood, but not life threatening anymore.

Then came the hunger. When she broke the only cannula she'd found and couldn't take any more of Becca's nutrition packs. When there was no food growing anywhere on the island. No signs of life. Her stomach had felt like it was turning inside out, burning and shrinking and crying out.

The trip back over the water, in a boat that finally sank just when land was in sight. Cold water, so cold it bit into every tired, aching muscle. Her lungs burned both with the water and the effort of forcing her limbs to float and to swim.

She'd been so sure the pain would be enough to kill her. Somehow, it hadn't. Somehow, she'd found her way to land. Found shelter, and found a supply of nuts that were still good. Satisfied her body's cravings.

Found Madi, and battled away her pain.

Seeing her friends crash back onto the Earth, the pain had begun to rear again, but the companionship and the friendship she'd fallen back into had helped her keep her resolve.

Captured and tortured, and knowing that there were others – potentially _hundreds_ – of threats, she felt helpless. The same way she'd felt when Praimfaya threatened. Knowing that some of the people she knew, some she cared about, would die.

That pain was sharper than any she'd felt before.

 _I just got them back._ The same thought ran through her head time and time again during the journey back to Arkadia. Not knowing how many others were still out there, how many more threats they could have to face, tore her heart into pieces.

The news didn't sit well with Octavia, when Clarke shared it with her, bandaged hands clutching tightly against her chest as if the pain from those wounds would eclipse the pain the knowledge brought.

'I am _not_ losing any more people to these bastards,' she hissed, one hand splayed across her chest as if to keep her own pain at bay. 'I lost a quarter of my people already – two hundred and ninety three are buried in a mass grave. If those bastards think they can come down and take any more of them away …'

'We're not going to let that happen.' Bellamy's voice was sure, determined, as he reached for another blanket. Clarke closed her eyes. 'We're going to win this war, just like we've won every war we've been put in since we first landed.'

Clarke didn't have the heart to remind him just how many they'd lost in those wars. How _much_ they'd lost.

Instead, she tilted her head back against the pillow. Abby had been in surgery with Jackson, operating on Murphy's hands, but after just one glance at her, Gaia had made up one of the spare beds for her to lie in.

After nearly three days on the crucifix, a bed and a pillow and a blanket felt like heaven. She dozed in the warmth and luxury, barely listening to her friends' conversation even as more voices joined the mix – Raven, Monty and Harper.

Full sleep claimed her not long after their conversation became softer, punctuated only by the loud bursts of frustration from Octavia.

When she woke, hours later, it was to silence in the absence of her friends, and the warmth of a familiar body curled against her. Madi, nestled against her side on the small bed.

 _God, Madi._

She could _not_ lose Madi. The very thought of life without Madi in it was devastating, and stole her breath for the few seconds she let the thought exist.

A monitor alarmed, and her eyes shot open in surprise. To her left, a monitor flashed, her heart rate and oxygen levels showing red on screen. Readings that were once so familiar to her looked so foreign now, so abnormal.

Jackson was at her side within moments, a relieved smile on his face when he saw her awake. 'How you feeling, Clarke?

She dropped her head back down, wincing at the pull on her cheek from the wound they'd inflicted, stitched up while she'd been out of it. 'I've had better days,' she admitted, voice croaky and throat sore. 'How's Murphy?'

The doctor's face fell, just for a moment, before he managed to slip the emotionless mask Abby had helped him perfect back into place. 'He's alive. He's unconscious at the moment, and he'll need more surgery when his body can cope with it.' He pushed a button, and finally silenced the irritating machine. 'Your mom's finishing up with him now.'

She raised one eyebrow. 'How bad was his hand?'

Jackson looked away, his mask slipping once again. Clarke's eyes narrowed. 'Jackson, I swear to God if you don't tell me …'

She let the threat trail off, and Jackson's anguished gaze turned to her, and then flicked down to the still-sleeping Madi at her side. Once he was satisfied that she wasn't waking, he sighed heavily. 'The damage to the nerves is too great. He won't ever regain use of his fingers.' His own tapped at the end of her bed in a fast, anxious rhythm. 'It's looking like he'll lose it.'

Her eyes widened, and her breath caught. 'There's _nothing_ we can do to save it?' she managed to whisper, and Jackson let his eyes slide shut. 'What about the prisoners, there's more of them somewhere, they must have a better stock of medical supplies than we do?'

'Clarke, we don't know where these others are – if there even are others.'

'I heard them talking, Jackson. Keller – the leader of the ones at the camp – he was talking to one of the others about how "they" haven't yet managed to track them down. That means there's someone he was running from. Others they were with in space. They must have been the ones on the big ship Madi and I saw.' She stretched out one arm, forgetting about the ache in her shoulder from its awkward positioning on the crucifix. Before she could touch him, she pulled her arm back.

'They have to have medical supplies – proper anaesthetic, antibiotics, sterile and better equipment.'

The door slid open, and Abby walked through before Jackson could respond. Her hands and the stomach of her shirt were coated in blood. Murphy's blood. Clarke bit her tongue.

'Time to take a look at your hands, Clarke,' Abby murmured, heading over to the bowl of water to rinse the blood from her skin. 'Let's see what we can do for you.'


	67. (LXVII) Emori

**Emori**

The mushrooms were apparently _too_ effective, Emori thought as she woke up from the drug-induced slumber, still groggy. They did keep the pain from the incision wounds at bay, though, as her body recovered.

But she definitely remembered falling asleep in her bed in med bay.

How did she end up in one of the bedrooms?

She blinked up at the metal ceiling, brow furrowed as she tried to make her body respond. It always took a few minutes after waking until she was able to move.

Echoes came to her from what she guessed was outside the door, people trying to keep quiet but failing miserably. She recognised Harper's voice first.

'- it down, we don't need to wake her!'

'She deserves to know. We can't keep her locked in here until he recovers.'

'She's still recovering herself, finally, we can't set that back any more.'

'We can't keep it from her after everything they've been through!'

Emori groaned, finding enough energy to raise one hand to her head. She didn't really understand any of what she was hearing.

The door clicked, and she turned her head to see the silhouettes of three people in the doorway. Harper, Monty and Raven.

She hadn't really seen any of them since she'd woken up, not properly. A few minutes here and there between doses of mushrooms wasn't quite the same as the time they'd all spent bonding in the six years in space.

She gave them a smile, and they filed in instead of hovering by the door. Raven began speaking before she'd even cleared the door frame.

'There's something you really need to know, Emori, and I don't care what Harper thinks, we can't keep it from you.'

Emori frowned, and Harper sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed. 'Abby's not going to be happy if we set back the recovery, Raven. Not after all the work Jackson did.'

'Screw Abby.' Raven tugged the chair closer to Emori's side. 'Look, Emori, you know how Murph – _John_ – decided to book it out of here to clear his head for a while?'

Emori's lips tightened. She hadn't had the best response to that when Raven told her what he'd done in response to her confessions, and the guilt still ate at her. She'd done what she could, with what she had, and done it so he could have the best life he could live.

What had gone wrong?

She fought to sit up, and Monty, still hovering, jumped into action building up the pillows behind her. 'What's happened?' she slurred, the mushrooms still affecting her.

The girls exchanged glances, Harper's face almost pleading while Raven's remained stubborn and determined. After a short battle of eye contact, Raven turned back to Emori.

'He got captured by the prisoners who opened fire at the Bunker.'

Fear seized her heart, and her breath came short as she fell back into the pillow support Monty had provided. Harper grasped for her hand. 'He's alive. Bellamy, Echo and the others found him, brought him back to med bay.'

'I don't understand,' she murmured, fighting back tears that were beginning to sting her eyes. 'Why wouldn't you want to tell me … ?'

'There's more.' Harper shot a reproachful look at Raven. 'Emori, we don't know how long they had him. But they had him … _nailed_ to a crucifix. And one of them managed to cut through his palm with an axe.' She swallowed, and Emori felt the blood drain from her cheeks. 'Abby's taken him back into surgery. They're taking it off.'

' _They're taking his hand off_?'

Her heart rate spiked, and the monitor to the side picked it up. The beeping grew loud and annoying frequent. 'They can't take his hand off!' A thief needed both of his hands, and Emori knew that the moment she was healed, that's what she and John would go back to. They'd become nomads again – Wonkru wouldn't want them.

Wouldn't want _her_ , a stain on the bloodline, and if she went, John would go with her.

Wouldn't he?

She threw back the blanket someone had thrown over her, pulling her hand from Harper's. 'I need to go to him,' she declared, and Raven shook her head while Harper glared at her. 'They can't do this!'

'Emori.' Monty's hands landed on her shoulders, keeping her in place. 'Emori, wait.'

'The longer I wait, the more time they have to take his hand away!'

Monty pressed his hands that little bit firmer into her shoulders. ' _Wait._ If you go on there right now, all it's going to mean is that Abby and Jackson get distracted. What they're doing is a delicate procedure and if they go wrong it could be catastrophic for John.'

The tears began to fall, and she sank back against the pillows in defeat. Monty was the voice of reason, as always. 'They can't take his hand,' she repeated, broken. 'They can't. He needs it.'

Her hands folded over her stomach, and she tucked her knees up to form a protective cocoon. A pointless cocoon – there was no life there to protect anymore.

'He's lost so much already, _please_ don't let them take his hand away.'

Harper's hand landed on her knee, and Raven's rested on her arm. 'I'm sorry, Emori,' Raven whispered. 'I thought you should know before you see it.'

'Can you _stop_ them?'

Harper shook her head. 'They've already been in surgery with him for an hour. It's too late.'

Monty's fingers squeezed her shoulders gently, full of reassurance. 'As soon as he's out, we'll talk to Abby. Get you back into med bay to see him.'

Emori nodded, reason catching up with her. 'Is he alone now?'

Raven shook her head. 'Clarke's in med bay too. And Octavia's in and out, much to Abby's irritation.' She grinned. 'She won't stay in bed for long, especially when Abby's ordering her not to get out of it.'

Emori closed her eyes, head falling back. 'Can you let me know as soon as he gets out?'

Harper squeezed her knee. 'Of course. But go back to sleep for now. We'll stay while we wait for news.'

* * *

 **Please don't hate me! There is a purpose to this down the line, one that will be good! I promise!**


	68. (LXVIII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'You don't have to do this now, Octavia. You're still sick.'

Octavia threw a glare he'd became far too familiar with over her shoulder as Bellamy followed her out of the door to the Ark. 'I need to talk to them sometime. I'm still their leader.'

He adjusted the gun holster on his hip, grumbling. 'You'll still be their leader when you're not sick, O. This can _wait_.' He stepped outside, frowning at the rapidly approaching dusk. 'Abby says you shouldn't be going outside for long yet.'

'Abby doesn't rule me. If anything, it's the other way around.' Octavia raised one eyebrow at him. 'And for that matter, before you go into the next stage of the argument, being my big brother does not mean you rule me either.'

'I wasn't – okay, whatever.' He held his hands up in surrender. 'Never mind that we're just trying to do what's best for you, and _not_ aggravating your illness is definitely in your best interests.'

She rolled her eyes at him, and he was back to her as a teenager, struggling to understand why _today_ was not the day she could go outside. Doubting their intentions in keeping her locked up during that brief rebellious phase she went through.

Was she really twenty three?

'I'm doing this, whether you like it or not.' She spun, turning her back to him as she continued across the ground. 'I need to address my people.'

He gave in, coming to a stop as she continued. Indra fell into her company, and then Kane and slowly, the other Grounders surrounded her.

Bellamy watched with an element of awe and an overwhelming feeling of pride when his sister stopped, having climbed onto a stack of wood that put her just over the heads of the tallest Grounders. Her words echoed as she spoke with confidence.

'It has been six very long years, but we are _finally_ back on the ground. Most of us have made it. Some of us, we have lost along the way. But they are going to help us provide new life to the ravaged Earth we find ourselves on.'

Bellamy smiled, leaning back against the ship. Octavia commanded a presence even greater than he remembered. Leadership definitely suited her.

'You will know by now that we have taken prisoners of war from a camp of those who attacked us after the first group escaped the Bunker. Those prisoners are being interrogated as we speak, and when they have served their usefulness, they too will be punished with death. But there are others out there.'

Whispers rose, some concerned, some full of resignation. Octavia continued.

'We are working on finding them. In the meantime, please, do _not_ engage them without a member of Skaikru or of the main warriors at your side. The prisoners will have guns, and they will have technology.'

Abby appeared at Bellamy's side, face curious. He spared her little more than a glance as he stayed tuned in to Octavia's speech.

'The advantage is, they do not know this land. They come from before Praimfaya – they are not adapted to the types of food found on the Earth now, or to having a limited supply. They do not know these forests like we will.'

She nodded to somebody, who began distributing slips of paper. 'One of our own has spent years on the ground, surviving only by Nightblood. She has mapped this area well. Memorise this map, use the landscape to your advantage if you come across any of these prisoners.'

Kane murmured something to her, and she nodded her acknowledgement. 'By all means, return to where your homes once stood. We cannot stop you. But Earth is barren, and threats are out there. Until we can regenerate the ground and eliminate this threat, you will need to be prepared. There are too few of us left to lose any single one of us.'

'I need to talk to you.' Abby's voice was cold, and Bellamy's smile slipped from his face. 'Inside.'

She turned, and with one last look at Octavia, who was now stepping down from her makeshift stand, he followed Abby to an empty room.

She closed the door as he stepped inside, and the moment the lock engaged, her body hardened and her face grew cold.

'I asked you to take care of my daughter, when you both left the Bunker.'

He sighed. 'Abby …'

'You left her behind on an Earth that was trying to kill her. You left her alone.'

'We didn't want to.' Bellamy slumped against the wall, dropping his head until the curls he still needed to cut fell into his eyes. 'We waited as long as we could for her to get back. If we didn't leave when we did, none of us would have survived.'

His answer didn't seem to faze her. 'My daughter suffered severe radiation burns and practically tore the skin from her legs. She lived off of nutrition bags for _months_ because there was no food, no water, left behind.'

He shook his head. 'If we'd known there was any chance she wouldn't make it, we would have left her supplies. But the radios cut out, we didn't know –'

'And now that you're finally back, she's finally with people again, you let her go to observe prisoners who take her captive and _nail_ her to a crucifix.'

Fire burnt in his chest. 'I didn't _let_ her go, Abby. They approached her. She knew where the camp was, and she went of her own volition, knowing the rest of us were distracted with the sick and injured.'

Abby scoffed. 'Clarke hasn't been with people for _six years_. She doesn't understand people any more. She should _never_ have been allowed to go alone!'

He inhaled deeply. 'We didn't allow her. She _chose_ to go, not expecting capture.' He raised his head, met her steely gaze. She'd taken several steps forward until she stood right in front of him. 'She's a grown woman, she can make her own decisions now. She doesn't need anyone to tell her what to do!'

'She's still a child!'

'She hasn't been a child since you got her father floated!'

The sting of the slap was sudden, and the sound bounced around the room for the few seconds it took him to comprehend that had happened. Abby's hand was still raised in the air, as if to slap him again. He glowered at her.

She glared back. 'You have no idea what you're talking about. What happened to Clarke's father is none of your business, and it doesn't change the fact that she is still a child.'

He shook his head. 'Whether it's my business or not, _I know_. And I've been there. I know what it's like to suddenly have adulthood forced upon you even when you're too young.' He grasped at her wrist before she could swing her arm again, noting how her muscles had tensed. 'The moment she overheard about the oxygenation problem, she stopped being a child. And when you sent her down to Earth, it just reinforced the fact she had to grow up and be an adult. A leader.'

'Being a leader is _not_ the same thing as being an adult.'

He shook his head sadly. 'Maybe not. But seeing and knowing all but seven of the friends she made since you sent her down here with were killed in violence – some right in front of her, and some by her hand – forced her to grow up far faster than you'd ever have intended. It has a long lasting effect that just can't be ignored.'

Abby's eyes turned critical, skipping across his features. Finally, after a minute's silence, she lifted her head as if in surprise.

'You love her.'


	69. (LXIX) Abby

**Abby**

Bellamy Blake looked distinctly uncomfortable after Abby's observation. His cheeks flushed red (and not entirely due to the admittedly undeserved slap she had just given him), and his body tightened. His head turned away, and she watched him lick his lips once, twice, three times.

'It's okay to admit it, you know.' She gentled her voice, lowering her hand. He released her wrist quickly, as if her skin burned him. 'It feels better to let it be known to somebody else. Ideally the person you have feelings for, of course, but if you're not yet up to that …'

'It's not that easy.' His voice was gruff. 'You're right. I left her behind, and it broke my heart to do so. It reminded me that every time I let myself feel for someone, something bad happens to them.'

'That's not true,' Abby murmured, carefully placing her hand just above his elbow. Bellamy bit his lip, shaking his head.

'It _is_. My mom died because of me. My sister got locked up in the Skybox because of me. Her boyfriend died because of me, and she hated me. My girlfriend got blown up because of me. Half of the friends I made on the ground died, because of _me_.'

Abby shook her head. 'It's not your fault, Bellamy. Life on the ground has been hard on us all – and what happened on the Ark with your mother and your sister was not your fault. You were a little boy who was faced with an impossible task and one day you just tried to make your sister happy.' When he opened his mouth for another denial, she talked right over him.

'Did you want everyone to die? Did you personally kill them all?'

Bellamy's eyes slid shut, and Abby frowned at him. 'Their deaths are not your fault. This is the life we've been forced to live – and you're not responsible for that.'

'I'm responsible for my mom's death, and Octavia being arrested. You can't deny that, Abby.'

His voice was so full of pain and self-loathing. How had he lived for the past eight years with it? 'Maybe you are. But you did what you needed to for Octavia. You tried to make her happy. And if you hadn't, no, she wouldn't have been arrested – but then the three of you may have died on the Ark without ever experiencing the ground, and so many more of your friends would be dead.'

He took a step back, pressing against the wall and then sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. Abby followed suit. 'I know what it's like to question your decision. I turned my husband in to the Chancellor and he was killed. I thought I was doing what was right for our people, but Jake dying and Clarke being arrested wasn't part of my plan.' She let her head sag backwards. 'I questioned myself for _weeks_ after they took Clarke away. Would I have done different if I knew?'

She'd never found an answer to that. Would she cause mass panic (which would hopefully have turned into the peaceful volunteering that had eventually occurred)? Would she have derailed Jaha's plan to send the hundred to the ground when the situation continued to get worse?

Or would she give humanity its best chance of survival?

It seemed such an obvious choice now. 'Maybe my decision was for the best. It got us to the ground – maybe not in the way we ever thought, but we got here.' She sighed. 'Your decision was for the best too. For the one person whose needs you cared about more than anybody else's at that time.'

Silence fell for a time, until finally Bellamy snorted in amusement. Abby raised one brow.

'How exactly did we get from you dragging me into a room to yell at me for your daughter's decisions, to justifying our own decisions about other people?' he asked.

Abby laughed. 'Life became a lot more complicated, one conversation always leads to another down here.' She patted at his arm, and then pushed herself back to her feet. 'You know that you need to tell Clarke, right?'

He groaned, his head making a thunking noise against the metal of the ship. 'I don't want to jeopardise one of the only good things in my life,' he admitted, face tight. 'If I tell her … I'm afraid it will go badly. It hasn't exactly been going well for us since we landed again. I've already fucked up twice.'

'Language,' she reprimanded without even thinking about it. 'It's up to you, though, Bellamy. But Clarke deserves to know how you feel.' She paused, thinking, watching as he inhaled deeply. The flush was still in his cheeks, but half faded now.

'Ever since that day after Clarke escaped Mount Weather, when she saw you coming in through those gates, something changed.' Her voice was soft, and instead of the floor, this time she sat on the bed. 'She left the medical tent, and the moment she saw you, she _ran_. She was cut and bruised all over, and God only knows how she didn't have any broken bones, but she ignored any pain she felt and she _ran_ to you.'

She could see he remembered that day, the small smile playing on his lips a tell-tale sign. 'She threw her arms around you, and you hugged her back, and I knew that I'd lost her completely.' Her voice caught with emotion that she quickly bit back. 'I watched my baby girl become an adult. I always knew that one day, regardless of what had happened between us, she would truly be gone. She'd settle down with someone.'

Bellamy turned his head towards her, eyes open now and full of confusion – and a little bit of awe. 'You held her so tightly, and she held onto you in that moment as if she never wanted to let go. I thought then, that one day I'd be watching my daughter leave me to spend the rest of her life with _you_.'

His brow furrowed, and Abby gave him a smile. 'She's had feelings for you ever since that day, if not before, whether she has ever admitted it to herself or not. And I think you knew you felt something for her then, too.'

His face lit up, and she saw the insecurity melt away. 'Before then,' he admitted, and she raised both eyebrows in surprise. 'When we first encountered acid fog, one of us didn't make it to shelter. Atom. He survived the fog but he was in bad shape. He begged me to kill him, and I couldn't do it.' The joy melted away into regret. 'I don't remember how it happened … but suddenly Clarke was there, and for the first time in my life somebody took the responsibility away from me. Somebody saw my hesitation and they helped me without question.'

'Mercy kill?' Abby guessed, and Bellamy nodded.

'Nobody had ever treated me like I was worthy of help, especially not anyone from Alpha station. And Clarke, she did it all without a word – just took the knife, and cut open his throat and soothed him until he passed.'

Abby bowed her head in respect for the young life lost so long ago. 'It's how Jake and I tried to raise her. With everybody else in mind before herself – much like you.'

'It worked.'

* * *

 **Two longer than normal chapters with the long awaited confrontation and an admission I really hope we eventually get on the show!**

 **I'm so close to finishing this, I'm about to start the last few chapters and then I just have to polish up the epilogue, and it's taking so much for me not to give in and just post it all in one go for you!**


	70. (LXX) Raven

**Raven**

'Best I can do with what I've got right now.' Raven tightened off the last screw of the support she'd created, casting a critical eye over it. There hadn't been much in the way of parts – a lot of it she'd scrounged from previous creations that were of no use now (many iterations of her leg brace lay scattered in pieces on the floor) and some she'd just had to make it do what she wanted it to do until they could get better.

Clarke gave her a smile, settled on the seat with her hands held loosely in her lap. The bandages stood out in a way Raven hated to see – a reminder of what she and Murphy had been through. Murphy still hadn't properly woken up. Abby and Jackson were keeping him heavily sedated.

Clarke, though, had never been put under. Her surgeries had been quick and easy – just a case of padding the wound and pulling as much skin back together as possible. She'd always have scars, and possibly always have small holes in her hands – but she still had them both.

Kind of.

Raven made her way around her work desk, device in her hand. Clarke sighed, almost unwilling; Raven just stared at her.

'It's not going to bite you, Clarke.' Raven rolled her eyes, and Clarke huffed but held out her right hand.

Her surgeries had been a success … apart from the one nerve Abby couldn't fix that meant Clarke's fingers couldn't flex properly on her right hand. It was a damn good job she was left handed.

'Remember I can't promise this will be a miracle solution.' Raven eased the device around Clarke's wrist, and set up each finger with tiny little buckles that Echo and Harper and Madi had helped her to create over the past week. 'It'll just make it that little bit easier.'

'I know, Raven.' Clarke watched her, until finally Raven stepped back, device secured to Clarke's hand. 'So how does it work, remind me.'

Raven rolled her eyes, but took the seat beside her friend for ease. 'It's set up with a simple joint system for each knuckle. Like my brace. It's set up with tiny springs that will react when you straighten your hand out – can you feel them?'

Clarke set her jaw against the pain Raven knew came from the wound, but managed to force her fingers straight. That wasn't the problem. 'A bit of pressure?' Clarke checked, and Raven nodded. 'Then yeah, I feel it.'

'Good. What you'll notice if you relax your hand is that the fingers you can still curl will continue to resist that pressure until they're folded against your palm. The ones you struggle with, the ones that don't move properly, will be forced into that curled position.'

Clarke's hand relaxed. Raven watched as her thumb and index finger folded easily. The three remaining fingers were slower, and she heard Clarke inhale sharply as her middle finger finally bent at the knuckle.

Progress.

Clarke's face split into a grin, and Raven felt her own grow wide. 'Well whaddaya know, it works. And it doesn't bite.' She gave Clarke a wink, and then made her way back around to the other side of the desk. 'I'll work on getting you another one that isn't sort of thrown together. But that should do you for now. Just – don't strain it, okay?'

'God, you sound like my mother.' Clarke sighed, laying her palm against the table. 'You able to make anything for Murphy?'

Raven's hands paused in twisting the screw and washer she'd picked up. Her throat tightened. 'I don't know if I _can_ make him anything,' she admitted. 'It's one thing to make a support for a limb that doesn't work properly – making something to replace a limb that's no longer there?'

Wick could have probably created something.

 _Shit_. Wick. She hadn't thought of him in a very long time. But it was true, he probably could have come up with something. A replacement for a missing hand was exactly the sort of random creation he'd somehow throw together that she'd inevitably have to improve on.

Sadness welled deep in her stomach. She'd met every single member of Skaikru who'd left the Bunker, be it through the turbines or through the door.

Wick hadn't been among them.

'Raven?' Clarke asked, softly, bringing her attention back. Raven shook her head to clear thoughts of her ex-lover far away.

'Yeah, sorry.' She looked back down at her work table, at the scattered partial creations around her. 'I can fiddle around with a few things. Don't know what I can make him.' A cover was about the only thing she could think of at that point. 'At least, not without him telling us if there are any other areas I can do something for. Like maybe his other hand being stiff.'

Clarke sighed, dropping her head. 'Emori's still with him, you know.'

'After what they've been through, you expect any different?'

Emori's reaction to knowing Murphy had been injured – and her reaction when he came out of that third surgery with no hand, and she'd finally been let back into med bay – haunted Raven. The sheer anguish on her face, the non-stop tears, the denial …

She was the mirror of Murphy after the accident on the ship.

'They'll get through this, Clarke.' Raven stretched one hand over, and carefully brushed the blonde's fingers. 'We'll all get through this. It's just another part of life on the ground, right?'

Life on the ground actually kind of sucked.


	71. (LXXI) Miller

**Miller**

'So, tell me more about life back on the Ark. How much did you really want to destroy it all?'

Harper glanced at Miller in alarm. He snorted. 'Relax, McIntyre. I know you never would. But come on. It was a prison up there – in more ways than one.'

'Kept us alive long enough to get back down here. Twice, in some of our cases.' She rolled her eyes. 'Some days were tough. Couldn't help but remember some of the bad memories – like my mom.'

Miller threw her a quick look, and then adjusted his hold on his gun as he stared across the horizon at the dead planet. 'What happened to her? If you don't mind talking about it.'

Harper shrugged, kicking a loose stone beneath her foot. Miller watched as it bounced down the small hill they stood at the top of. 'After my dad died, she went a bit crazy. Tried to attack one of the nurses who'd been treating him. They didn't float her – Sydney was merciful for a while. Knew she was deranged from grief.'

Diana Sydney, merciful? Miller frowned, and then his frown deepened as he realised what it meant if Sydney had been Chancellor at the time, how young that would have made Harper.

'Just after Jaha took the council, my mom was released. Seemed normal again – the mom I'd grown up with.' Harper's voice was soft, like she was a million miles away. 'And for a while, she was. And then the anniversary of my dad's death came up.'

'Hey, it's okay, you don't have to tell me any more if you don't want to.' Miller stretched his hand out, clasping her shoulder in a comforting, friendly gesture. 'I get it.'

She shook her head. 'I'm fine. It's better for me to get it out. Monty was the first person I told, and he told me it's better to release those demons for someone else to share.' She cleared her throat, and Miller let his hand drop. 'Anyway. Mom went crazy on the anniversary. I woke up to her that morning, breaking whatever fragile items she could find. She was about to break my dad's family heirloom – a little figure of some weird mouse his grandmother had brought onto the Ark. Apparently her grandfather had brought it for her, so it held sentimental value.'

There were only a few things Miller could think of that could count as personal items with "sentimental value" to anyone on the Ark. His family hadn't had any, but the family next door had carefully looked after a silver locket with a faded picture of a child.

Just from seeing their zealousness over that, he knew what Harper would be discussing next.

'I managed to get it away from her before she threw it. Of course, she didn't like that, slapped me around a few times. Damaged some other items. When she realised there was nothing else to break … it was just me and the figure left.'

She swallowed, and her gun dropped a fraction from where she cradled it to her chest. 'She slammed me into the bed, knocked me out cold. Still have the scar behind my ear to prove it.' Her voice turned bitter. 'She used that time to snatch the figure back and threw it at the wall beside where I lay. When I woke up, she was gone, and it was in pieces.'

He gave only the barest of glances at their surroundings before turning his full attention to her. 'What happened to her after that?'

'She went out, seduced one of the guards coming off duty. Stole his access card and broke into medical. They grabbed her just after she shot herself full of morphine. She didn't get a second break. They floated her.'

The words "I'm sorry" were on the tip of his tongue until he caught a look at her expression. Cold, distant, unfeeling. Instead, he floundered. What did you say to a story like that where the person clearly lost all pity for the dead?

'I was arrested a few days after that. The guy whose access card she'd stolen had the unfortunate luck of being one of the ones assigned to clear out our room – they were moving me to a communal room, being just a kid. I ended up attacking him. Not for enabling her – I didn't care about that at that stage. But he swept away the fragments of the figure I'd so painstakingly gathered with the hopes of fixing it.'

And then spent four years in the Skybox until she was part of the hundred. Miller could work that bit out, too.

'For what it's worth,' he said, almost hesitantly. 'I think you did a good job becoming the woman you are after dealing with that.' He gave her a smile, and a gentle nudge to her upper arm. 'And a badass gunner.'

She cracked a small grin at that. 'Yeah, I suppose I did.' A quick look at him, and then she looked back out at the desolate ridges on the horizon. 'Since we're getting all chummy and finding each other's backstories out … what about you? I know your dad made it to the ground – and I'm sorry he didn't make it through Praimfaya – but what about your mom?'

Miller sighed. 'She was never in the picture for me. She was one of the unlucky ones. A complication in her pregnancy with me meant she died just after I was born.' He shrugged at Harper's pained expression. 'It's okay. Doesn't bother me usually.'

'But it does now your dad's gone.'

Damn she was perceptive. He didn't answer her, focusing on the distance. Was that … a bird? Hadn't Bellamy said there weren't any?

Harper's rifle rose, and she peered through her scope as she noticed it too. 'What the …'

The sound hit them next, and the speck became bigger. Wider. Headed right towards them.

Miller's hand scrambled at his waist for the radio he carried as Harper confirmed his fears.

'Prisoner ship spotted, perimeter three!'

* * *

 **Little bit of a filler chapter to a) fill the story a little (surprise, it is called a filler chapter!) and b) give a bit more information to Harper and Miller. I don't recall ever hearing anything about Harper so I've taken some liberties with her ... if anyone finds any information my brain's glossed over please let me know!**


	72. (LXXII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'Tell me, how exactly do you intend to fight?'

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Bellamy; perched on the end of her bed, Clarke furrowed her brow. 'I'm serious. Neither of you are in any fit state to do any fighting. You, Octavia, are still healing from the TB. And Clarke, no offense, but you can't bend your right hand properly and your mom isn't happy with your left one yet either.'

'You choose now to listen to my mother?' Clarke scoffed. 'My hand is fine.'

He shifted his stance, eyebrows raised. He could tell she was in pain even as she sat there, hand lying flat in her lap.

'Your mom knows her stuff when it comes to medical issues. Of course I'm going to listen to her when she says neither of you are healthy enough to go on nearly an hours trek to quite possibly engage in a fight with an enemy.'

Octavia opened her mouth as if to respond, and then thought twice about it, glancing over her shoulder. Clarke had no such qualms.

'My mother does not know how I feel in myself, and neither do you. And, by the way, neither of you are in any position to order me around.' She glanced at his sister, and pursed her lips. 'And your sister is _Heda_. If she wants to come, she should come. Her people need her to be present.'

Bellamy scowled. 'My sister is still sick.'

Octavia growled – actually _growled_ – in his direction. 'One, _your sister_ can speak for herself. Two, I feel well enough in myself that if you gave me a sword right now, and let me at the prisoners, they'd be dead in the next five minutes.' She jumped down from the bed. 'And Clarke's right. My people, my responsibility to lead them into battle.'

' _Our_ people, O.'

'No.' Octavia gave him a fierce look. 'Not yet. You weren't in the Bunker with them – Skaikru might recognise you as a sort of leader, but none of the others will.' She tugged at one of the wires still connected, monitoring her signs; Bellamy closed his eyes in defeat, one hand raising to massage the bridge of his nose where he could already feel a headache brewing.

'You can talk to them. They listen to you. Tell them that in your absence I will help lead the charge.'

She copied Clarke, scoffing at his words. 'No,' she repeated, and he felt her hand slap ineffectively at his chest. 'You always put yourself in the firing line before. Why is it different for me?'

'She's right, Bellamy.' Clarke's voice was gentle. 'A leader can't expect their people to go into battle without showing that they themselves are willing to go into battle too. It's one of the quickest ways to lose respect.'

'A gift from Lexa?'

He didn't mean for his voice to be so snarky, not really, but the words hung in the air afterwards, and the tension quickly became palpable. Octavia remained silent.

'No, actually.' Clarke's voice was steady, and when he lowered his hand so he could watch her without obstruction, her face was hard. 'Lexa would have been willing to send her people to battle without engaging herself. She did it several times. Her ideology was that a leader must be able to look at their warriors and tell them to go die for their leaders.'

He snorted. 'Of course it was.' He turned his attention back to Octavia. 'You're not coming. _Either_ of you. End of discussion.'

Protests came spilling from both of them, but he ignored them, spinning on his heel and walking out of med bay before either could follow him.

Kane met him as he stepped out into the sunlight. 'They staying put?'

Bellamy sighed. 'Probably not, but I gave it my best shot.' There were guns spread out on the ground, more than they'd had before. Raven had been busy in between fixing up braces for Clarke's hand. 'Octavia will definitely be following us unless we get someone to sit on her.'

'So we get someone to sit on her.' Kane scanned the crowd of Grounders milling around, waiting for orders. 'And Clarke?'

'I'm about to get Madi to force her into staying.' He glanced around, unable to see the little spitfire he'd become so fond of. 'Any idea where she is?'

'She wasn't with Clarke?'

Bellamy shook his head. 'Just her and Octavia in med bay when I left, and there was no sign of Madi in the corridors.'

Worry gnawed at his stomach. 'Wait. When did Jackson want to send her out to gather more mushrooms and plants?'

Kane frowned, and straightened fully so he could cast his gaze around the Grounders awaiting orders or just sitting around, enjoying freedom. When he peered towards what had once been their meat hut (and was now just a pile of logs ready to rebuild), he let out a stream of curses.

'The Grounder family she knew from before is gone. They were going with her to help gather.' Panicked eyes swung to him, and Bellamy mentally prepared himself for the blow he knew was about to come.

'She was going to the border between perimeters two and three.'


	73. (LXXIII) Raven

**Raven**

'I only have four grenades.' Raven tapped a bag lying over her work bench as Bellamy scowled. 'Hey, I've been kind of busy fixing the guns and getting a brace made for Clarke. And we're running low on hydrazine again, so lots of big bombs are out of the question.'

She pushed the bag towards him, and one of his large hands took the strap cautiously. 'They're not that fragile, Blake,' she teased. 'They won't activate until you pull the cap off. Pull the cap, and then _don't_ drop them. Once the inner casing breaks – which the cap is currently preventing – you'll have your explosions.'

She rounded the table, heading now for one of her shelves. 'More bullets.' She pulled a box down, turned at the waist and placed them just in front of him. 'Just in case.' Her attention went back to the shelves. 'Some more earpieces for the radios.'

No container for these; she grabbed them, and shoved them into Bellamy's outstretched hands. 'Got a two mile radius, which should be more than enough for this.'

Bellamy nodded. 'Yeah, should be enough.' He dropped them to the table, and then grabbed a small handful at a time to shove into his pockets. Raven raised a brow. 'I have to get them and the bullets out somehow, Raven.'

'You mess my tech up, you're in big trouble.' She smirked. 'What are you doing about Clarke and Octavia? Do they know?'

He sighed. 'They know. They're pissed at me because I won't let them come.' His hands closed around the box of ammo. 'Indra's putting one of the more experienced warriors on guard to make sure Octavia doesn't sneak out, and by that extension, Clarke too.'

'You think that'll be enough, really?' She rolled her eyes. 'Octavia's their leader. One direct order from her, one threat, and that warrior will let her out. And with how much they used to respect the power of Wanheda, they won't exactly keep Clarke locked up for long either.'

'That's why you're not coming, either.'

She crossed her arms over her chest. 'Excuse me? I don't remember giving you permission to order me around.'

'It's not an order, Reyes.' Bellamy flattened his hands on her table, leaning forward and curving his back. 'It's more of a request. I need someone to keep an eye on them, talk some sense into them. Abby's keeping Murphy under, and Emori's not leaving his side. And you know neither of them have ever really listened to Abby or Jackson.'

'Still not seeing how that means I stay behind.'

She watched as his body seemed to slump. 'I need someone to distract Clarke. I went to go get Madi, and Kane realised that she was out gathering. On the border of perimeter three.' He looked up at her below hooded eyes.

Raven sucked her lower lip between her teeth, mind racing. 'So, I'm guessing you haven't told Clarke that her adoptive daughter is out right where the prisoners are landing?' When he didn't answer, she nodded. 'Okay. You go do your winning the battle thing and I'll do the locking them in med bay thing.'

'You're the best, Raven.'

'You know it.' She grinned over at him, and for a moment awkwardness born of their close confinement in space hung between them. They hadn't really found themselves alone for any length of time since piling into the ship to come back down.

'Raven –'

'It's okay.' She shook her head. 'We knew what we were doing up there and we knew things would change when we came back down.' Her shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. 'You need to get going. The prisoners aren't going to wait for you to arrive before they wage their war.'

His tortured expression was enough for her to sigh, round the table _again_ , and prop herself up beside him. 'Bellamy. A long time ago, you lived by two mottos – _whatever the hell you want_ being one of them, the other being about having to become a different person to survive.' She gave him a smile, and that typical head tilt of hers. 'Who we needed to be to survive back on the Ring are different people to who we have needed to be to survive on the ground.'

She patted his arm almost as one would treat a skittish animal. 'Besides, you need to be the man you were becoming before Praimfaya. And _more_ of a man.'

His frown of confusion was adorable. Raven smirked, shook her head, and patted his cheek instead this time. 'Tell Clarke. Now you know she's alive, you have no reason to keep it a secret. Besides,' she pulled away, turning to reclaim her seat and finish the secondary brace she'd been preparing for her friend, 'I don't think she'll outright reject you.' Her eyes turned playful again. 'Maybe after she's tried you a few times – a girl should get a taste of Bellamy Blake at some point in their lives.'

'You're a damn pain in my ass, Raven Reyes.'

'You know you love that pain in your ass.'


	74. (LXXIV) Clarke

**Clarke**

The guard Indra arranged to stand by med bay doors arrived that little bit too late.

Octavia's plan was glaringly obvious, and that was the beauty of it. Clarke had to grin as they slipped through one of the broken metal panels that Praimfaya had left in the walls of a room three doors down from med bay.

As the two of them ducked through the last remaining wire of their original fence, they could hear the yelling that was raised by Tren, the burly man who had turned the corner to med bay just as they had ducked into the other room. Indra's voice soon joined them.

The Rover's engine cranked into life, and Clarke caught Octavia's eye. ' _Bellamy_ ,' she whispered, and Octavia frowned. 'We need to hurry. Get into the trees before he sees us.'

They hurried.

As they slipped beyond the tree line and into the woods Clarke had come to know so well, she heard the grumbling of the Rover roaring past. A quick drive by search for them. Good. Clarke knew that at this point, with the foliage that had begun growing again, they were invisible from Bellamy's route provided he didn't look too hard.

'They need to get moving if they want to make it to perimeter three in time to engage,' Octavia murmured, squatting to keep low. Clarke silently agreed. 'We should move too.'

'We need to be careful. Not all the pits are filled yet. Fall down them, and you'll either break your legs or land on spikes long since forgotten.'

There was a pause, and then a snort. 'You didn't think to mention that before we escaped?' There was a rustling, and as the sounds of the vehicle died away, Clarke joined Octavia in standing and preparing to move. 'Point the way.'

She took a moment to orient herself, mind scanning through the brief glance she'd got at the map they'd marked perimeters on before the call came through. 'Perimeter three is an hour's walk or so if we stick to the trees for as much of the journey as we can. They end about half a mile away from where Miller's transmission came from but thin out considerably before then.'

'If I can see my people then that won't be a problem.' Octavia's voice was sure. 'They'll listen to me. Indra only holds sway over some of the Trikru warriors. They will be marching at the head of the army.' She glanced at Clarke. 'When I see the others, they will follow – and if I have the majority, I have them all. Insubordination will not be tolerated.'

There was a note of something ominous, something threatening. Clarke bit back a response, suddenly worried about the darkness that had haunted the girl's mind for so long.

Now was not the time for that darkness to emerge.

Now was also not the time for her to spend time discussion when they had to catch their main forces to fight the prisoners threatening everyone.

For the next forty five minutes, silence fell between them, save for the few instances Clarke had to correct Octavia's path to prevent her falling into one of the hidden pits. The occasional echo from the marching Wonkru army disturbed them a few times, but for the most part, they were happy to keep quiet.

Until Octavia began.

'He's constantly looking at you when you don't realise it, you know.'

Confused, and a little startled by the sudden conversation, Clarke nearly tripped over a protruding tree root. 'I'm sorry?'

'Bellamy.' Octavia shrugged her shoulders, a motion Clarke only just caught as she righted her path. 'Back when you two were arguing at the dropship when we first landed, you never saw it – but he looked to you. And it never really stopped. Six years separated, and one of the first things I notice when I see the two of you in the same room is he is exactly the same stupid brother of mine.'

Clarke brushed her hand against a tree as she climbed over another root. 'What exactly are you trying to get at, Octavia?'

'My brother's an idiot.' A hint of humour. 'I don't know if he's even realised it himself. But he loves you. I don't know quite how, but it's not the same sort of casual emotion he has for Raven or Harper.' Octavia skirted the obvious opening of a spike pit, the last one in these trees that hadn't been done yet. 'When he looks at you, his eyes light up no matter what the situation is.'

Clarke shook her head. 'We were co-leaders. That's all there is to it.'

'Sure, keep kidding yourself.'

She glared at the back of the other woman's head. 'All I'm saying, Clarke, is that I don't think you realise it either. And one of you needs to. Bell's given his whole life to keeping me safe, even when I was pissed at him and wanted nothing more than for him to die and leave me alone. He never got a chance to live _his_ life.' She stopped, and Clarke came to a stop too as Octavia spun around. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes hooded.

'I don't want to watch my brother throw away his happiness any longer. That's not what I want, and it's definitely not what our mom would have wanted when she died to keep us both alive.'

'Then he should go and find his happiness.' Clarke stepped around her, aiming to continue forward. Just ahead, another two or three minutes walk, the trees ended.

'That's the thing. _You_ are his happiness.' Octavia's hand was firm, but yet gentle, around Clarke's bicep as she pulled her to a stop. 'I spent plenty of time in med bay talking to Emori. About how much he was hurting when he was on the Ring and you were down on the ground. Raven and Harper, too. They're on the same page.' Her face turned far gentler than Clarke had ever seen, the mask falling away.

'I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen my brother nearly lose his mind, Clarke. When Mom got floated, and I got locked away; after Azgeda blew Mount Weather and our people died; and when he brought you into med bay with gaping wounds in your hands, unconscious.'

Again, Clarke shook her head. 'He was just as bad when he carried you in after he found you in the Bunker.'

'Then doesn't that show you something?' Octavia's eyes were wide, almost pleading now, and Clarke had to look away. 'Bellamy counts those remaining from the hundred amongst his friends. But you, Clarke, he counts as more. He counts you as _family_. And he takes family really, really seriously.'

'We need to move, Octavia.' Clarke pulled her arm away with care, trying to ignore the butterflies that rose in her stomach at Octavia's words. 'The army will be marching through any time now and if you want to talk to your people, you need to be ready.'

She sighed, holding both hands up in defeat. 'You know I'm right.'

Clarke didn't answer.

* * *

 **I have been too good to you, four chapters a week! I'm almost caught up with where I am in writing - so after this, I won't be uploading on a Thursday any more and will be dropping down to 3 chapters. Just to give me that little extra reprieve to actually bring myself to write an ending.**


	75. (LXXV) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

They found Octavia, and Clarke, ten minutes before they reached their destination. Bellamy couldn't bring himself to be surprised.

Despairing, yes. Shocked, no.

'I knew I should have cuffed you both to your beds,' he groaned as he, Kane and Indra investigated the bulk of their army pausing. Octavia stood among them, having delivered a rousing speech. Clarke stood just to the side. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'I'm fighting with my people, for my people,' Octavia replied, jutting her chin forward in a stubborn move he recognised from her childhood. 'You can't stop me. If you try, you lose your army.'

Indra, at Bellamy's side, took half a step forward before Kane stopped her. 'You cough even _once_ , O, and you're benched,' Bellamy threatened. 'And no questions. I'm not having you in the middle of a battlefield if you're about to bring your lungs up or collapse.'

She gave him her infuriating smile. 'Whatever the hell you want, big brother. But my people come before my health today.' She gestured to one of them, and within seconds, she held a sword, balancing it with the same ease Indra and Echo and Yelende carried theirs. 'Like it or deal with it.'

With that, she brushed past him to claim her place at the head of the army.

That girl was going to be the death of him.

Bellamy cast his eyes to Clarke, who had her arms folded across her chest. 'I'm not going back,' she declared. 'I'll stay out of the way but I'm coming with you.' Her face was set, eyes fierce. Bellamy shook his head in defeat.

There really was no arguing with either of his girls.

'When we engage, you stay back.' He glanced around, spotted Costa hanging awkwardly a few steps away, awaiting the leaders to continue their march. He called him over, and the guard came without question. 'You stay with Costa – do _not_ let her out of your sight, Major.'

'Understood, sir.' Costa dipped his head, and Clarke glared at Bellamy, who just shrugged his shoulders.

'You shouldn't be here. Now you are, you're under guard.' He considered for a moment, debating whether to cuff her just in case she managed to slip from their watchful eyes. Probably not the best idea, he decided. 'If she tries to come to the front, do whatever you can to stop her. She's not engaging the enemy.'

'So I'm a prisoner myself?' Clarke's voice was incredulous. Kane sighed. 'I'm the only one here who knows this terrain and can find you the best vantage and ambush points. You want to throw away your advantage for what, pride?'

Bellamy shook his head. 'We don't have time to argue this. Clarke, you're injured. It's bad enough I have to concede to Octavia, I'm not having a second liability out in the field.' At her yelp of indignation, he began to turn away. 'You stay with Costa, out of the way, or you end up in cuffs.'

'You wouldn't dare.'

'Try me, Princess.'

There was silence, a competition between them of who would cave first. Bellamy refused to let it be him, refused to cave to Clarke's stubbornness. His own would just have to be twice as strong. A feat in itself, if he were to pull it off.

Kane and Indra shuffled nervously beside him. 'It's your call, Clarke. The easy way or the hard way.'

'Sometimes I wonder if you really did change in that year or if I imagined the whole thing.' She gave up her fight, taking a step backwards and towards Costa. 'There's a snare, four feet right of the rocks in a triangle formation. Another seven feet north of that one. It's another five minutes walk from here.'

Indra moved, presumably to relay that to the head of their army. 'See, it's not so hard to listen to somebody else for once now, is it?'

'Go to hell, Bellamy.'

If only she realised he'd already been there time and time again.

The earpiece crackled to life just as he began making his way back to where Octavia now lead the others, Echo's voice shaky and full of static with the distance. 'Search turned up nothing at the border. No sign of the girl or the family.'

Where the hell was Madi then? He frowned, a quick glance over his shoulder confirming Clarke was far enough away from anybody with a radio she didn't hear what was coming through. 'Permission to enter perimeter three to continue the search?'

'Granted.' Kane's answer was clipped, and when Bellamy turned his focus to the other man, his face was just as concerned. 'Find her, and fast.'

A brief confirmation from Echo, and the radio fell silent again. Bellamy caught up to Kane, a few steps ahead of him, falling easily into stride.

'You think that's the best way to keep Clarke from the front?' Kane asked, and Bellamy sighed. 'Or that it's the best idea not to tell her about Madi now she's here?'

'If she knows, she'll go straight to find her. She won't be concerned with stealth like Echo's group. And we can't risk losing Madi or Clarke.'

'She might know of places Madi could hide if she thought she were in danger.' Kane clasped his shoulder. 'Bellamy, you can't let emotion rule you anymore. You let Octavia into the march, because she forced her way in. Clarke has just as much right as Octavia does.'

He was right, of course. Bellamy hated to admit that. 'We give Echo a bit more time. Once we're in position, if she's unsuccessful, we talk to Clarke.'

It was the best he could do to obey Clarke's request for him to use his head.


	76. (LXXVI) Madi

**Madi**

Madi didn't even realise how far they'd wandered from the original course planned for gathering supplies. That one tricky deer had led them on at least a mile's trek, even flagging as it was after Endin sunk an arrow into its hindquarters.

By the time she caught her bearings again, they were out of time to react. The prisoner ship loomed large, the sound deafening and the heat from the flames it kicked out at seven different points just short of unbearable.

The few piles of rock and natural cliffs did little to break any of it. Madi could feel her skin beginning to blister, and the sight of Kina's mouth opened in a cry told her that her friends were also suffering. Her lips stayed tight, the first lesson she'd learned from Praimfaya.

Showing pain only made those you cared about ignore their own until they were dead. Her mother's pain had caused her father to slow down, and Madi's pain had caused him to try to spend too much time trying to find herbs for salve, leaving him on the wrong side of the door.

What the hell was going on?

She didn't know how long they waited, ignoring the burning sensations in their skin, unable to hear over the roar of the engines. All she knew was that this ship's descent was slow, much slower than Bellamy's had been.

And it was so much bigger.

How many more like those who had shot at her, who had injured Clarke and cost Murphy his hand? How many enemies would they need to fight their way through?

The absence of sound was startling when it finally came, accompanied by a sudden gust of air that cooled fast. It felt good on her overheated skin, but she didn't dare look down at the exposed skin of her arms or her hands. Not until they stopped the itching from the burning.

The ringing started quickly, and Madi watched as her friends' mouths moved. No sound reached her through the bells.

Was she deaf?

She couldn't be deaf.

This planet wasn't geared to people who couldn't hear – the differences in the ground, the footsteps of the few animals to survive. The sound of running water, often hidden in trenches not easily seen until too late. The echo of rocks at the bottom of other cliffs where they skidded after disruption from footsteps.

To survive on Earth, she absolutely had to hear.

Panic gripped at her chest until what little breath she'd managed to catch came with difficulty. The ringing grew louder, and her sight grew narrower. Darkness swarmed at the side of her vision, threatening to take her under.

 _No_. She would _not_ give in. Forcing her lungs to cooperate, she sucked in a deep breath, and let her eyes slide closed. It was easier to focus when not distracted by whatever was in front of her. The hot air bit at her throat, but slowly, bit by bit, she found her lungs loosening.

Finally, when she was almost sure the attack had passed, she let her eyes open again. Her vision had widened as her body relaxed, and she could see clearly again. Endin was hunched over beside her; behind another natural rise to her left, Kina sat with her head thrown back, grimace on her face.

There was no sign of Arida, but she had lagged behind while the children chased the boar. Had she managed to take shelter a little further back, where it wasn't as loud or as hot?

The ringing hadn't stopped, but right now she chose not to focus on that. Her eyes scanned around her – there, on the edge of the cliff high above, she saw movement. A flash of a gun, looking out over to where she guessed the ship had now landed.

Wonkru, amassed in time to fight whoever they needed to. Relief chased away the last remnants of panic.

If Wonkru were here, that meant Bellamy was likely here too. He'd chase away the monsters, just as they always did in Clarke's stories.

She looked down next, checking her skin. The furs she wore against the bite of the wind had offered some protection, but the backs of her hands and her wrists were red, with small blisters beginning to develop on a few of her fingers. She was glad for the lack of reflective surfaces, not wanting to see if any were forming on her face.

With little else to do, she glanced around the edge of the rock behind her back.

The ship was even bigger than she'd imagined, covering nearly the entire horizon from her vantage point. Metal panels stretched, some dented and some burned, with paint peeling and flaking in places.

The name on it was unmistakable though.

 _Eligius._ The prisoner transport ship.

And their door was wide open, people peering out at the desolate landscape, oblivious to Wonkru and to Madi. She was close enough she could make out their expressions – some wore disbelief, some wore grief, and some had schooled their faces into neutral expressions, but their shaking hands belied the truth of their emotions.

They carried no visible weapons. Good. That would make it easier for Bellamy and his men to pick them off in ranged contact if they took even one threatening step forward. Madi suddenly hated the fact she still couldn't hear, and that she had no radio to contact them with – how could she tell him that?

Endin's hand coming to rest on her back startled her, and she pulled back quickly to fling her body around to face him. His mouth was moving, but the corners were tilted down in a frown. The ringing in her ears continued, and she watched as Endin's hand raised to brush against her cheek.

His fingers came away wet with blood, and his mouth moved again. She shook her head in confusion, and his face fell in concern.

Even without Clarke having tried to teach her about medicine for the past five years, Madi knew that bleeding from the ears after loud noises wasn't usually a good sign.


	77. (LXXVII) Kane

**Kane**

'They're not armed.' Kane raised his head from the scope, frowning in confusion. The first few of those on the prisoner ship had finally started to emerge, but none carried weapons. No rifles, no knifes, no bulges suggesting concealed pistols.

'They could still think the Earth is uninhabited. The last time Clarke saw them, it was just her and Madi on the ground.' Bellamy swept his rifle back and forth, presumably checking for other openings. 'If we're lucky, they didn't pass over Arkadia, Polis, or the dropship.'

Octavia snorted on his other side. 'Us, lucky? You do remember that we've basically been at war in one way or another ever since we landed on this planet, right? First with people, then the planet itself, and now with people again?'

'Wait.' Kane focused his gaze back through the scope, dropping it slightly at a flash of movement. 'Madi's down there, hiding behind the rocks.'

Bellamy swore, and Kane caught the motion of him dropping his own scope until he could see her. 'Why the hell is she so far into perimeter three? She was only supposed to be at the border!' A beat, and then another curse. 'She's too close to the ship to be able to make a break for it.'

Kane magnified his view, twisting the scope carefully. The boy – Endo? Andy? No, Endin, that was it – had his hands on her cheeks, brushing away something. Something dark stained the fingers on the hand Kane could see.

Nightblood.

'She's injured,' he whispered, not entirely sure at that moment where Clarke was. He didn't want to cause her to worry even more, or for her to cause undue attention before they had no other choice. 'She may have been too close to the landing site.'

'So what do we do?'

Kane lowered his rifle, reaching instead for his radio. 'Echo, it's Kane. We have eyes on all targets inside perimeter three. Halt your advance. We want to maintain the element of surprise.'

'Understood. We have eyes on the ship but not on the other targets.'

'Maintain your position. We're observing for now. Only engage if they initiate.'

Octavia sighed. 'Observation? Really?' She rocked back on her heels, and Kane turned his attention to her. 'Observation lets them move. We need to pin them down where they are. Corral them in.' Her fingers twitched around the handle of the blade she carried. His eyes didn't miss it. 'We need to make them know they have no chance, that _we_ are in control here.'

'We are not going in without any information on them, O.' Bellamy looked up and over to his sister. 'If we do that, we just risk being cornered by something we should have been prepared for.'

Kane disengaged from the conversation, focusing back on Madi and Endin. The boy had her pulled close now, hands closed around her ears as if protecting them – which suddenly made sense as Kane realised just how close they were to the ship. The sound of the engines and the force of the thrusters had probably burst an eardrum.

He scanned the ground, finally noticing the dark head of Kina tucked just behind a mound of rubble about twenty feet further back than Madi. There was no sign of Arida from his vantage point.

How the hell were they going to help them get away before anything started with the prisoner ship?

'Get the hell out, Bellamy!' Octavia's shrill voice jolted him back away from his scope. 'This is _my_ army. _My_ people. I say we go in now, and take no prisoners.'

'Octavia –'

'Stay out of this, Kane.'

She was glaring at her brother, didn't even spare a glance for Kane as he turned himself to watch their exchange. 'These people made no effort to communicate with the Ark even when we were dying. How many people died, in the culling and in Sydney's rebellion, that could have been saved if we knew where we could get resources? And not only that, they let prisoners come to the ground who killed and injured _my_ people right after they finally got out of the Bunker.'

He shuffled warily closer, focusing more on Octavia than Bellamy; but he could see Bellamy reel back as if her verbal punch had been a physical one.

Her lungs were heaving in a way he didn't like, breath coming in little pants. Her cheeks were flushed red again – anger, or pain? Both, maybe? A cautious step forward, hand outstretched, and he murmured her name.

Her eyes flashed to him, and her sword swung up faster than he could follow. 'I mean it. This is not something you need to meddle in.' Her lips clamped shut, hiding a cough he saw jerk her chest. The blade dropped, nicked his collarbone.

Indra fumbled at her waist to tug a flask of water out, one which Octavia waved away in favour of continuing her glaring match with Bellamy. 'I am taking my people down there to engage with the prisoners. You can either join me, or you can go back to Arkadia and wait out this war.'

She dropped the blade at Kane's neck, to which he breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped back. Bellamy's face was torn when Kane turned to him. 'Take a walk, Bellamy. Go check on Clarke, make sure she hasn't heard about Madi yet.'

The man rocked back on his heels, beginning to frown. Kane held his hand up to quash any complaints before they were uttered. 'Please.'

Bellamy's gaze flicked from Kane to Octavia and, then again, until he settled on his sister. 'This is still an open discussion, O.'

'Bellamy.'

He grunted, free hand running through his hair in frustration, but he did as ordered, spinning on his heel and heading back to where Costa kept watch over Clarke. Once he was out of earshot, Kane rounded on Octavia.

'It's not a solid battle strategy to go in to unknown territory, with an unknown enemy with unknown weapons,' Kane warned, and Octavia raised one eyebrow at him. 'Underestimating the enemy could easily get us all killed.'

'None of us is going to die today, Kane.' Her voice was steady, despite the still worrying heaving of her chest. 'Not after we spent six years waiting to get back here. We _will_ survive whatever they throw at us.'


	78. (LXXVIII) Octavia

**Octavia**

It was one thing to portray confidence of a battle win. It was another to actually feel it.

Octavia took her place at the head of the army, watching as those in Skaikru fell back in confusion while those born on Earth turned their allegiance straight towards their Commander as she called them to arms.

Her glare wasn't enough to sway those who had their doubts – Miller included. Down in the Bunker, she'd trusted him for most of her guard duties. He, alongside Kane and Indra, evaluated recruits and trained them up. He helped keep the peace and when disputes rose over duties or rations, he helped her resolve them, sometimes by force.

And now he was doubting her.

The betrayal stung, but not enough to make her doubt her course of action. She turned her attention back to her people, awaiting her order to approach. Their path was clear – down the slope, around the split halfway down, and straight to the prisoner ship.

She gestured towards a group of warriors from Trishanakru. 'You. You go for the family caught down there. Protect them. Only once they are safe, join the battle if you can.'

They nodded their acknowledgement, sheathing swords they'd started to pull free. She turned her attention to Yelende's team. 'You. Guard the rear of the approach. We don't know if there are any more like the camp already taken, who could come to back them up.'

The Azgedan began to complain, but the sound of Octavia's sword sliding out of its sheath was enough to quiet her down again. 'Does anybody have any questions, or can we start moving?'

No questions, and she nodded. 'That's what I thought. Warriors, with me, let's go show these newcomers how Wonkru greet threats to their survival.'

'Octavia, please, reconsider.' Kane was at her side, voice pleading. 'You don't need to start a war with these people.'

'There won't be a war.' She sheathed her sword again as the first of her warriors crossed past her to begin their descent towards the ship. 'This will be a slaughter. They won't have the time to retaliate, and nobody will be left afterwards.'

'You're talking genocide.' He grasped at her elbow, and the sword flew back out instantly to rest at his throat again. 'What are you -?'

'I am saving my people.' She put just a little bit of force behind the blade, and he visibly recoiled. 'Don't think I won't kill you if I think it's what's best for everybody else, Kane.' At his shock, she cocked her head. 'You helped teach me that, you know. With the cullings. Knowing that killing some of your people saved others. It's a lesson I intend to take seriously when I need it.'

'Those situations were desperate ones.' He raised one hand, fingers sliding underneath her blade. She watched as lines of red appeared where he began to push back. 'Those situations were ones to try to ensure our people survived in the face of guaranteed death.'

She raised one brow, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in her chest that she didn't think came from emotion. 'How is this any different? Their people opened fire on ours. If they survive, we die. It's that simple.'

'It's never that simple, Octavia.'

'This is.' She refused to be swayed. 'Now, you can either go join Bellamy, and stay away from my army as it makes sure we are safe, or I can pull this sword and you can join Jaha.' She shrugged her free shoulder. 'It's your choice. And it's _that_ simple.'

Indra sucked in a breath behind her, and Kane's eyes flitted in that direction. 'You won't find any non-Skaikru member of Wonkru willing to defy me, if that's what you're thinking. I am their Commander, a title won through blood and death.'

Her lungs were burning. Why were her lungs burning? She was pretty much over the sickness. But the pain was the same – the fire at the base of her lungs, the sandpaper at the back of her throat where she suppressed a cough.

She couldn't give in, not at the beginning of a battle.

Kane closed his eyes, and raised his other hand. 'I can't let you do this,' he whispered, and his other palm met her blade. 'But think about it. The last time an army was slaughtered, think about what happened. Think about _Lincoln_. Is this what he'd want?'

'You don't talk about Lincoln.' Her grip waivered, just a little. 'Lincoln would want his people to be _safe_. That's all he ever wanted.'

'Lincoln wanted peace,' Kane fired back. 'He knew that safety came with peace, not with slaughter.' He pushed, and more of his blood welled on her blade. Her eyes caught on it, the crimson a stark contract to the shining silver. 'You told me that above all else, he wanted people to _live_. You can't live looking for your next battle.'

'And three of my people don't live at all thanks to these prisoners.' She tightened her hold, inhaled deeply. Kane wasn't moving. That left her with one option. 'Last warning. Step away, or I will take your life.'

'Commander.' Indra chose that moment to step in, her tone calm despite the racing emotions in Octavia and those she could see in Kane's eyes. 'Is this truly the best course of action? Is there no better way?'

She threw a disbelieving glance to her war chief. 'What other way would you see? Let more murderers go free, give them a chance to wipe us out?' When Indra gave no answer, she scoffed. 'If we take that threat away now, we save our people.'

Indra met her gaze head on at that. 'Is that not what Pike did so long ago?'

White hot anger bit at her chest, and she dropped the sword from Kane's neck to whirl to face Indra. 'This is _not_ the same situation.'

'This is exactly the same situation. Pike slaughtered an army three hundred strong because he thought they were a risk to him. His motivation was the actions of others.' Indra straightened her back, and Octavia watched conviction cross her features. 'Your actions are to slaughter an unknown number because they may be a risk. Your motivation is that some of their number launched an attack on your people.'

'And _killed_ some of them!' Was Indra really starting to defy her? Now, after all they'd been through? ' _Jus drein jus daun!_ Blood must have blood. This is the way _you_ taught me.'

'Blood has answered blood. We killed seven of their men in the rescue of Clarke and John Murphy. Many more were injured, some catastrophically.' She raised one hand, as if to placate Octavia. 'What purpose would this slaughter serve?'

Octavia frowned, staring at her mentor. 'You would have me do _nothing_?'

Indra shook her head sadly. 'I would have you remember that blood is not everything. The legacy that Lexa worked towards was peace. You tried to continue that. After the conclave, you saved every clan even at the cost of your birth clan.' Her eyes were sorrowful. 'You didn't kill while we were in the Bunker. You knew humanity had to survive. And that still holds true.'

'You call these people _human_?' Octavia reeled back in shock. 'Indra, the criminals we already fought were running from these people. What sort of horrors do you think they inflicted, to make murderers run away?'

Was she really being so oblivious?

The crunch of stones behind her told her Kane was moving forward again. 'We don't know that they're criminals still on the ship. For all we know, they could be the guards.' His hand landed on her right shoulder, pushing with just enough force she couldn't swing her sword up to him for a third time. 'You know from experience, prisoners rebel against their guards.'

'What we did when we first came to the ground is not what everyone will do.' What was it so hard to get through to them?

And why was it getting so hard to hear them? Her chest burned, lungs heaving. She could feel the blood rushing, heard it echoing in her ears.

The world was beginning to grow faint. But she refused to give in. They needed to see reason, and they needed to start their attack …

Any time now …

The world went black.

* * *

 **I really need to bring myself to write the ending, don't I? I've been sat on the same chapter for nearly a week, not wanting to let it progress because I know it's right there, right at the end of it now.**

 **But you're not that far behind where I am now, so I need to just do it! Gah! This world can't end!**


	79. (LXXIX) Clarke

**Clarke**

He seemed oblivious to her glare, head down, kicking at the few stones in his way. Clarke folded her arms across her chest (careful of the joints of the brace on her hand) and waited. At her side, Costa shifted from one foot to the other, trying to maintain his disinterested appearance.

Bellamy stopped right in front of them, stray curls hiding his eyes from view as he continued to stare at the ground. 'Octavia giving you grief?' Clarke guessed, with only the smallest hint of bitterness. When he didn't answer her except for a quick glance upwards, she sighed. 'You've spent six years apart. In that time, she's grown to be her own woman – a leader.'

'She's just a kid, Clarke. She doesn't know what she's doing.'

'That's not true.' She took half a step forward, lifted one hand as if to touch him. She paused before she made contact, then retracted her hand. His head turned to follow the movement. 'How old is Octavia now?'

The corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. 'Her age isn't relevant.' He looked up, letting his curls fall away until she could see his eyes. 'What's relevant is that fact that she spent sixteen years in a controlled environment – just me and our mother. She was forced into a violent world she never understood.'

'She's had six years to learn from the best, Bellamy. Seven, if you count the time she spent learning from you before Praimfaya.'

'She's over there trying to justify murdering every single person on that ship without knowing a damn thing about them, Clarke!'

Clarke raised one eyebrow, focusing her gaze over Bellamy's shoulder. She could just about see Octavia through the throng of people. 'Looks like she has Kane talking her out of it.'

'You really think Octavia will listen to Kane?'

'You really think Kane will let another slaughter go by when he can prevent it, after everything we've been through?'

She did make contact then, resting her left hand on his upper arm. The white of her bandages was a stark contrast to the black of his jacket. His jaw tightened as his eyes followed the movement, and she knew it hadn't passed him by either.

'We won't let her kill everyone. That's not what this mission was about.'

He sighed, shoulders slumping. 'I'm losing her again, Clarke. We just go back, she's just fought this illness trying to take her away – and now not wanting to let her bloody her hands with a whole faction of bastards is pushing her away.'

'You can't keep her wrapped up, safe and secure, forever.' Clarke tightened her grip on his arm as far as she could, stopping at the first throbbing in the centre of her palm. 'Look, Octavia's her own person. Whatever she wants to do today – you tried to talk her out of it. And if we have to, to save lives, we'll stop her.'

'Why did you not tell Madi the truth?'

She frowned at his sudden change of subject. He lifted one hand, running it through the unruly locks she decided were well past needing a trim. 'We never spoke about your book after the camp. About why you told Madi I was a good guy.' He laughed, scornfully. 'I think we can guess by the fact I brought an army here that you didn't exactly tell the truth.'

Her gaze softened, and she smiled at him. 'You need to stop doubting yourself. You are a good man.' She shifted her grip, running her hand down his arm until her hand found his. 'When I found Madi, we were both in a bad place. I thought I was going insane, yelling at people who weren't there and barely surviving. Madi was scared, so very scared and the only way I could coax her out of hiding was by telling her why she didn't have to be scared anymore.

'The common theme in the stories I told her of keeping people around us safe? It was you, Bellamy.' She tugged, until he was almost chest-to-chest with her, so she could make sure he didn't miss what she was saying. 'Once I had Madi's trust, it was cathartic. I had a way to expel my demons, so I told her so much about all of us. But every story I told, you featured. You were always by my side, chasing away those enemies I was telling her about.'

'Not always.'

She shook her head. 'Yes, always. Okay, maybe you weren't _physically_ there – but you were there for the Grounder battle. You were there when we had that haemorrhagic fever. The Jobi nuts. You were there trying to find Finn, you were inside Mount Weather trying to rescue our friends while I worked from the outside. You helped me with the City of Light, and with battle we'd been through, we'd been through it _together_.'

Her unspoken words hung between them. _Until the radio tower. Until Praimfaya separated us._

'Your next question will be about the drawings, I guess?' she asked, and Bellamy had the grace to drop his gaze from hers with a soft flush to his cheeks. To their side, Costa shuffled again, taking a few steps back – giving them what little privacy he could afford. 'I did draw you. So many times,' she admitted, and his eyes flew back up. 'In the lab, when the fires were still burning – I drew everyone. Put your picture on the wall with some others. May have accidentally torn it several times throwing items at your face, but …'

He snorted, and she grinned. 'I got frustrated. I don't do well in cooped up places.' She sobered up before she continued. 'After I got back to the mainland … I kept drawing. We didn't find the journal for a few months, so I'd draw on whatever was available. I drew everyone I was telling Madi about, and then when we found that journal tucked under a load of rubble, I made permanent, easy to carry drawings.' She was the one to drop her gaze this time. 'But I couldn't draw you. Every time I tried, you looked so _sad_. And I couldn't look at your face every day, seeing the grief in your eyes.'

'Clarke …'

'It broke me, Bellamy.' She found the strength to look back up at him, ignoring the misty veil of tears over her gaze. 'It broke me to think that I caused you sadness. That I couldn't imagine you happy anymore. So I stopped trying.'

His free hand, the one she wasn't gripping so tightly she was sure her wounds were opening again, came to rest against her cheek. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, his voice shaky. 'I'm sorry that I had to leave you behind and cause all of your grief. I swear, for the rest of my life, I will make it up to you.'

She shook her head. 'I don't need that. I forgave you the moment you landed with all of our friends still alive, and proved to me that it was all worth it.' She tilted her head, letting it rest in his warm, rough palm. 'I just needed you to know that I didn't deliberately exclude you from the journal. That you were always there in my mind, every damn day. _You_ , Bellamy. _You_ were what got me through. Even with Madi, I needed you, the thought of you, to survive.'

His eyes jumped between hers, down to her lips, then back again. His thumb, so soft and big, swept across her cheek in comfort.

Maybe, just maybe, she could actually have something good? If she worked it right this time …

She let her eyelids shut just as he groaned, 'Fuck it.' A moment later, his lips landed on hers, rough and demanding and ferocious. She gave as good as she got, damn anyone who might look over and see the two of them together there, just behind everybody else, lost in each other.

How long the kiss could have gone on for were it not for the shouting that began to rise from the crowd, Clarke didn't know. But when Bellamy pulled back, chest heaving just as fiercely as hers, watching her with fondness and care and other emotions she didn't dare to put a name on, she mourned the loss. Tried to chase his lips, but in seconds his face hardened again as the shouts began to make sense.

'Heda!'


	80. (LXXX) Emori

**Emori**

For the days that John was unconscious, there was a never-ending cycle of their other friends coming to sit with Emori as she kept vigil at his bedside. Abby had been very thorough with the medication, keeping him unconscious while they tidied up his –

She didn't even want to think the word.

 _Stump_.

It was heavily bandaged, just a wad of fabric where once were fingers that had so gently stroked her cheek. A bloodied bundle of skin where once had been a warm palm that held her so carefully.

The doctor had finally finished her surgeries the morning before, and had eased up on whatever she'd been administering to keep him knocked out. Now, as she sat with him with only Raven for company, she could see his eyelids begin to flutter.

'He's waking up,' she whispered, standing so she could see his face that little bit better. 'Raven, he's starting to wake up!'

Raven stirred, turning over in the bed she'd appropriated while she waited. Emori hadn't even noticed she'd fallen asleep, being so focused on watching John's chest to make sure it was definitely still rising. 'John, can you hear me?'

His head turned, just slightly, to one side, and a groan rose from his throat. 'John?'

'Murphy?' Raven was suddenly there at Emori's side, voice soft.

'Wha …' He turned his head back, eyes fluttering again. 'Em'ri?'

'I'm here.' She grabbed at his left hand, pulling it to her chest. 'I'm here, John.'

She shifted closer, reaching out her other hand to palm his cheek. 'You're okay. You're in the med bay. Don't – don't try to sit up.'

'I'll go fetch Abby,' Raven whispered, briefly patting Emori's shoulder. She nodded in acknowledgement.

John groaned again, turning his head away from Emori's palm. 'Em'ri,' he whispered again, his voice wistful. 'Wha …'

He was asleep again moments later, and she took the chance to watch his face, soothed out now as the anaesthesia wore off – but the morphine clearly still worked. If it didn't, she was sure they would all know by now. He wasn't exactly quiet when it came to things that frustrated or pained him – mostly.

But he was peaceful now. So innocent.

As if her mistakes from the past year weren't affecting him anymore.

'How long until he's able to stay awake?' Emori asked when she heard the med bay doors slide open again, admitted two sets of footsteps – one lopsided in the way she'd come to recognise as Raven. The other must belong to Abby.

Her assumption was confirmed as the doctor set herself up on John's other side, running practiced hands over his pale skin. Once she was happy – or, Emori corrected herself, not concerned about the immediate future – she stepped away.

'A few hours. His body needs to rest properly, without the drugs knocking him out.' She placed one hand on Emori's shoulder. 'His prognosis is good. Raven's got a cover made for his wrist, and is coming up with ideas for his hand. He's not entirely out of the woods but he's not showing any signs of further infection, and the bleeding's stopped. He's not randomly spotting anymore.'

Emori nodded, though most of Abby's words washed over her. As long as they weren't giving devastating news (or _more_ devastating news), then she'd focus on the positives.

Raven wrapped her arms around Emori's neck from the back as Abby stepped away again. 'He's going to be okay,' she whispered, breath warm against Emori's ear. 'Trust me. I know I didn't lose my leg, but I'll help him adapt to the change as much as I can.'

'Thank you.' She raised her deformed hand, laying it carefully over Raven's arm. 'How … how long will it take him until he stops trying to use it?'

The weight of Raven's head grew heavier. 'He never will,' she murmured. 'Even after seven years, I still find myself forgetting that my leg isn't as it was. I still try to run. I still try to climb. It's only when you realise that you can't do something, you remember why.' Fingers trailed over the lumpy skin on the back of her hand. 'You lived your whole life knowing exactly how to work your hand. How it feels, what the limits are. With my leg, I was suddenly part crippled. I had no time to bring my brain around to the idea before it happened.' Another fan of hot breath, this time a sign. 'John's had some time. Up on that crucifix, he must have thought it as possibility. But it will be a shock, and he will need you.'

'Us.' She wanted to make that distinction very clear. 'He'll need all of us, Raven. I can't do this alone.'

'And you'll never have to.' Raven pulled away, bringing herself around to perch herself in Emori's line of sight. 'I swear to you, as long as I'm still kicking, I'll be there to help you when you need it.' A grin split the serious face she wore. 'As long as you beg, that is.'

Her familiar teasing wink made Emori smile, forgetting for that moment just what was wrong.

* * *

 **Hi guys, you've probably noticed that it's Wednesday, not Tuesday. And that my Sunday post actually went up on Monday morning (before I left for work).**

 **I'm going through a bit of a difficult, stressful time at the moment with work, and it's bleeding into my personal life. So, for my mental well-being, I'm going to take a little break. I'm hoping this situation is resolved next week, hopefully Tuesday evening - and whatever happens, I'll need a few days to process.**

 **So, to give myself that time, I won't be posting again until the 3rd November, which is a Friday.**

 **Thank you for all the support so far, it really helps me in moments like this - and I will not let you down. I will come back and get this finished for you, I just need a little time.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Tears x**


	81. (LXXXI) Clarke

**Clarke**

They reached Octavia's side seconds after she went down, Bellamy's face shattering the moment he landed on his knees beside her. Indra had managed to catch her before she hit the ground, but her cheeks were flushed, breathing laboured – and there was a tiny hint of blood on the sides of her mouth.

'The medicine we've been giving her isn't enough,' Clarke whispered, hands hovering uselessly over the girl. 'It's kept it at bay but it's not curing her.'

 _Shit, Clarke, think!_

'We need to make sure her airway's clear!' She lowered her hands, biting her tongue only slightly as she pressed too hard on her wound. 'Help turn her over. Bellamy, you need to stick a finger down her throat, clear out any blood or mucus blockages you might be able to feel.'

He grimaced for the briefest of moments, but nodded. 'Once she's clear, we need to …' _What?_ What did she need to do?

What the hell _could_ she do?

Why the fuck did they leave both Abby and Jackson back at Arkadia?

'Once she's clear, we need to make sure she keeps breathing easily.' A copout if she'd ever heard one. 'Keep clearing her airways. It's the best we can do. But she _needs_ to get back to my mom.'

Why didn't they bring a stretcher? They never had one when they needed it. Why were they so stupid?

She couldn't focus on that right now. She turned her attention back to Octavia, who lay on her side, Indra's hands supporting her. Bellamy had fingers carefully wrapped under her jaw, manoeuvring it open wide enough for him to be able to access her throat.

His fingers were too wide. It would be a struggle. But Clarke couldn't do it – not with the bandages and the wounds and the brace. Not if she wanted to minimise the risk of infection for the both of them.

She instead set herself to a vigorous rubbing of Octavia's back, with just the slightest push from the heel of her hand, to encourage any fluid build up to move forward. Round and round, listening to Octavia's ragged breaths and, when she paused for brief seconds to stretch out the cramps developing in her fingers, to feel the thudding of her heart.

Where was the damn stretcher?

Bellamy grimaced, pulling his hand away from his sister's mouth and shaking it over the ground. Clarke gave him an encouraging smile. 'Like that. Every few minutes, or whenever she starts to struggle to breathe.'

She didn't trust herself to perform a tracheotomy – wasn't even sure if it would be any use. There was too much risk of Octavia bleeding out or the problem being too severe, too focused in her lungs, for it to help. She'd already had too many things poked into her lungs themselves, and in an environment with no chance of sterilising anything quickly, Clarke was even less likely to consider it.

The only choice available to her that moment was …

'The size of that ship, they should have medical supplies.' Her voice was a whisper that even she barely caught. Could they do it?

Could they broker peace, at least long enough to treat Octavia?

'We can't, Clarke.' Bellamy caught her gaze, eyebrows raised. 'We don't know anything about them. We can't just go down demanding they let us use what medical supplies they have in there.'

'What if we barter with them?'

He scoffed. 'What do _we_ have that they don't? They have a ship that works, presumably with a farm area that is functional, water purifiers, medical supplies … we have a dead planet.'

'We have me.'

Just like with Octavia's idea of getting out of Arkadia, the idea was glaringly simple and obvious. Three little words, and Bellamy understood too – faster than Kane, faster than Indra, both of whom were frowning down at the pair.

'Nobody knows this land like me right now, Bellamy.' She pressed the hand against Octavia's back as the girl's breathing jumped. 'Me and Madi. We're the only two who know exactly where all the traps are, where the land is more likely to be receptive to planting – where relics from times long gone are still hidden.'

He shook his head. 'You're too valuable. We need you with _us_.'

'Madi can tell you everything I can, and I'd rather she not be forced with the people we don't know.' She glanced up, gestured for Kane to join her behind Octavia. 'Do you see any other choice? With the medicines we have right now, all we can do is keep her in limbo. She'll be forever improving for a couple of days, and then falling back into _this_.'

Bellamy swallowed, looking down at his baby sister with grief in his eyes. 'We can stop that. _I_ can stop that, if they're receptive to the idea.'

'What if they shoot you on sight?'

'That's a risk I'll have to take.' She looked to Kane. 'You were Chancellor once. You had to make decisions like this. What would you say?'

His gaze was cool, critical, as he observed her. Clarke waited.

'You won't be going by yourself.'

'What the hell, Kane?'

Clarke threw up her free hand, palm facing Bellamy, to silence him. 'Who would you suggest goes with me?'

'Someone who knows their way around a gun, in case things go wrong. A member of Skaikru, for the technology in that ship.' Kane raised one eyebrow. 'You know who would be best.'

She did.

But he didn't agree.

'I can't leave Octavia, not again.' Bellamy's voice had turned hard. 'But I'm not losing Clarke again either.' His hands clenched, knuckles turning white. 'No. We are _not_ losing Clarke.'

'Bell-'

'Madi's already down there, she can barter with them in Clarke's place!' His voice turned desperate, but the words sent chills down Clarke's spine. 'We'll send an envoy down to let her know what we need, they can act as a guide – but we don't need to lose Clarke!'

 _Madi's already down there._

 _Madi_.

With the prisoner ship.

The hand on Octavia's back stopped, then retreated, folding calmly against her lap. Eyes downcast, she missed the way both men turned their focus to her.

 _Madi's with the prisoners_.

'When were you going to say something?'

How was she so calm? Clarke didn't know how her tone had remained steady, what with the panic building in her stomach. _Madi's with the prisoners._

There was a beat, and then Kane answered. 'We sent Echo to look for her the moment we realised she was missing. We saw her just before Octavia began to call for mass murder. A small group of warriors were on their way to her.'

She nodded, absently. 'Was there a reason you didn't tell me?'

'We didn't want to worry you when it might not be necessary.' Bellamy this time, his voice just as detached as hers was becoming. 'Once we had a clearer idea of her state, we would have said something.'

'I see.' She shuffled back a little, coiling her muscles against the fear. 'Where is she?'

'Sheltering from the thrusters.'

 _Madi was close enough to the thrusters to need shelter?_ Unbidden images of a mass slaughter she was involved in seven years ago filled her mind. The skeletons sat in piles of ash at the bottom of the ramp; the bodies that had burnt to nearly a crisp where they'd tried and failed to find shelter.

There was a gun lying beside Bellamy. Her eyes flitted to it, judging the distance as she noticed Kane had taken up her ministrations on Octavia's back. From where Bellamy knelt, there were perhaps fifty paces to the edge of the cliff face.

She knew these cliffs. She could easily slip off the ledge and scale down them with a gun on her back – her hand might give her difficulty, but if she could make it to the outcropping about twenty feet down …

They didn't realise her plan until she was already running.

* * *

 **Hey guys, updates are going to be slow still for a little while - not sure exactly when the next one will be, likely Monday/Tuesday.**


	82. (LXXXII) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'What the –'

Clarke was already running, his gun slung over her back, by the time he managed to get to his feet. 'Clarke!'

'Stop her!' Indra ordered, and the warriors around them watching with wide eyes reacted. Some reached for the woman, already seconds away from the cliff edge; others lifted their guns as if to shoot at her.

He cursed, diving forward, threading his way through bodies beginning to crowd his way.

By the time he reached the cliff edge, she was already clinging to a rock several feet down. Much, much further than he could reach. 'Clarke, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

'I'm saving Madi!' She stretched one arm to her left, grabbing at another rock. 'I've spent _five years_ with that little girl, taking care of her as if she were my daughter! I promised her that if she was ever in danger, I would be there for her. I've broken that promise once already, I'm not doing it again!'

'Think about this, Clarke!'

'There's nothing to think about – she is mine and I _will_ save her.'

She shifted her weight, and Bellamy cursed as she lowered another foot. Before he could plead with her again, she lifted her head to look up at him. Her cheeks were flushed red, part with cold, part with exertion. Her words caused something in him to pause. 'You came down on the dropship to take care of Octavia. This is my dropship, Bellamy. Madi is my Octavia. You have to understand that.'

Another foot. She was getting too far away. 'We'll save her, okay? We'll get to Madi before anything happens. Just … get back up here and we'll take the safer route down, please?'

'No.' She glanced down, away from him, and Bellamy's heart lurched at the distance between her and the ground. If she fell … 'I have to keep Madi safe, and this is the quickest way for me to do that.' She looked back up at him, and he saw the conviction in her eyes. 'You don't have a choice but to let me do this.'

'There's always a choice!' He slammed one hand against the ledge of the cliff, cursing when a loose rock bit into his palm before skittering down just shy of Clarke's hand. 'You're not going down there alone, Clarke. We know _nothing_ of these people, they could shoot you on sight.'

She gave him a sad smile even as she lowered herself further. 'Then I die trying to keep my promise to the girl I've taken as a daughter. It's about time, anyway. After all we've lived through.'

His heart hardened. She wasn't … no. She couldn't be.

'You're not dying on me,' he growled, but she'd lowered herself to a point where she tuned him out, foot landing on an outcropping he hadn't seen until just then. 'I'm not fucking losing you.'

Octavia would understand – hell, she all but told him to follow Clarke. _His happiness_.

His future, if he had his way.

He swung himself over the ledge, scaling the cliff face with care but urgency; twice, he thought he was going to fall, a rock unsteady beneath a hand or a foot. Once, he made the mistake of looking down, and had to slam his eyes shut against the drop and take a deep breath.

The outcropping Clarke had shown him was narrow, only just wide enough to balance on most of his foot (Clarke would have had no problem, being smaller than he was). Still clinging to the cliff face, he followed it.

It sloped downwards, the angle manageable for about eighty feet. Then, out of nowhere, the path disappeared.

Bellamy glanced over his shoulder, trying to peer down. He couldn't see Clarke – hadn't heard her, hadn't seen her, hadn't felt any rocks moving around him to suggest she was nearby. But she'd had to have come this way. This is where the path led.

And – there. A very small cave, with one of their old lanterns set at the back of it to light the drop he could just about to make out.

Stood next to the lantern, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, was Clarke.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she all but yelled when he finally had enough space to fill his lungs without fear of knocking himself off. 'You should be up there, with Octavia, not risking your damn life climbing down a cliff you don't know!'

He glared at her. 'If _someone_ didn't think the best idea in the freaking world was to scale down a cliff face into enemy lines, I would be! Someone has to keep an eye on you. And someone has to stop you killing yourself.'

She scoffed. 'I'm not suicidal, Bellamy.'

'Sure sounded like it, _it's about time_.'

'I don't have time for this.' She glowered at him as she stormed past, shoulder bumping against his. 'You can follow me if you want – you're not getting back up the cliff that easily.'

He didn't answer, biting back the retort sitting on his tongue as she jumped down the first drop. When she reached the edge of the second, he followed.

In a minute, they were outside again, at the base of the cliff the rest of the army stood atop. Far faster than they would have been had they followed the natural path. From here, he could see Kina, clutching at her ears. A thin stream of red ran down her cheek.

'Madi was the same when we saw her,' he murmured, and Clarke's head snapped to him. 'The thrusters – they were too close.' He felt a pang of guilt as her face fell. 'I'm sorry.'

Her eyes narrowed, and a flash of fury filled her eyes. 'We need to talk when this is over.'

He nodded, narrowing his eyes so he could focus his gaze. 'There. Madi and Endin.' He pointed, and she peered in the direction. He grasped her arm before she could run, feeling the muscles tense. 'Wait. The ship.'

He pointed to the lowered ramp, and then to the group of four walking away from it – walking towards Madi. Two men, two women. One carried a bag over her shoulder. None of them had visible weapons, but that didn't mean they didn't have any at all.

'They're headed straight for her.'

* * *

 **I am so sorry, I wasn't particularly well last week with headaches - but I'm feeling loads better this week, and have the entire week off of work so I can dedicate myself to writing and publishing more chapters!**


	83. (LXXXIII) Clarke

**Clarke**

The group was too close to Madi. Even at their leisurely pace, Clarke could tell that they'd reach her before she did, even at a run.

But she had to try.

Bellamy's grip was tight on her bicep, holding her back as she yanked forward. 'Let me go, Bellamy.'

' _Think_. You go running over there, you'll be exposed. The only cover between here and Madi is where Kina is. You'll be completely in the open the rest of the way.'

She could see that. And she didn't care.

'Follow me if you need to. I'm getting to Madi.' She tugged her arm again, and he stared down at her. ' _Bellamy_.'

'I'm not seeing you die today, you hear me?' He tightened his grip even further, until she felt the pinch of his fingers meeting around her arm. 'I've lost enough people in my life, I am _not_ going to lose you too.'

'If you don't let go of me and let me get to Madi, you won't have the chance to lose anyone else,' she hissed, eyes narrowing. 'Let me go, Bellamy.'

He shook his head. 'Give me the gun first. I'll cover you from here if any of them start to get hostile, and you can take my pistol for if you need it.'

She paused, searching his face for several seconds – seconds she couldn't really afford. His gaze was open, anxious just like hers; with a brief nod, she slipped the strap of the gun back over her head to pass it to him.

'I'm not dying today.' She gave him a quick smile, and he finally released her arm. His fingers clawed at his back for a moment, and then he was passing her the pistol, still warm from his body. 'I'll send Kina back to you.'

Bellamy nodded. 'Fine. Go.'

She didn't need telling twice.

The ground down here was the perfect show of how Praimfaya had affected the earth – the ground was hard, dusty, and empty of all green. No grass tufts trying to poke through. No tree roots to trip over.

Just dead ground that she stumbled over where cracks left the earth uneven. Rocks sent her skidding more than once, scattering beneath her as she ran.

She scraped her left knee as she landed hard at Kina's side, hands immediately flying to the girl's head. Kina's eyes were wide, but relaxed ever so slightly as Clarke smiled at her. 'Go to Bellamy,' she whispered, nodding her head in his direction. Kina frowned.

Shit, had she been close enough her hearing was compromised? Crap. If Kina's hearing was gone, Madi's was probably affected too.

It took everything she had not to up and run to Madi, focusing instead of pointing over Kina's shoulder until she turned. With a gentle push between the girl's shoulder blades, Clarke waited just long enough to ensure she started moving towards Bellamy – and safety – before turning around herself and focusing back on Madi.

The small group from the ship had reached her now. Clarke's heart began to beat even faster, her breath coming faster as panic gripped her. It multiplied when she noticed Endin, firmly in the grasp of one of the men, legs flailing as they held him off the ground.

Double shit.

She tightened her grip on Bellamy's gun, inhaling deeply to calm her racing heart, before she pushed off at a run again. She could only pray to whoever was listening that they wouldn't unleash gunfire as she dashed towards them.

The run was perhaps three minutes – make that four, she amended as she skidded on the rocks again, almost losing her footing and screwing with her momentum. All open space. Dead ground.

It felt like an eternity, like she was living those two thousand days again. Unable to reach her friends – Madi – when they needed her, unable to even call out to them, but needing to get the validation. Needing to know they were alright.

That Madi was alright and this wasn't a trap. That she wasn't about to be killed.

'C'mon, c'mon,' she growled at herself, ignoring the pain building in her legs. She had to push herself forward, had to get to Madi while there was still time.

She _had_ to.

 _Had to_.

'Get away from her!'

The four from the ship focused their attention on her as Clarke skidded to a stop a few feet away, gun held tight and focused on the woman hovering over Madi. One hand was reaching into the bag now at her waist, the other inches from Madi's ear. Clarke could see the darkness drying down her cheek, the blisters on the back of her hands.

 _Triple shit_. Her hands shook, the gun wavering as she took in Madi's injuries. She'd been too close to the thrusters, that much was clear. But while the prisoners were there …

'It's okay.' The woman lowered her hand, a soft smile appearing on her lips. 'We're here to help you.' She lifted her other hand out of her bag, holding onto a vial with liquid. 'I'm a doctor.'

'Get. Away. From her.' Clarke tightened her grip on the gun, her knuckles turning white. 'And let my friend go.' She inclined her head towards Endin. 'Let the two of them leave – without hurting them – and then we need to talk.'

The woman cocked her head. 'Your friends are injured. I can help them.' She gestured to Madi's ear. 'Perforated eardrum. Not much I can do to heal it, but I can help soothe the pain she'll be feeling. And I can treat the burns. Same with him – the burns, at least. He's not showing any symptoms of a perforated eardrum but I can check.'

'Nothing I can't do. Nothing our doctors can't do.' Clarke gestured with the gun. 'Step back. Let them go.'

'Okay.' The woman glanced at her companions, and gave a nod. 'Okay. Christopher, let him go.'

The man with his hands around Endin's arms frowned, but did as he was bid; the second he was back on the ground, Endin raced over to Madi, grabbing her hand and tugging her backwards towards Clarke. 'Okay. You said you wanted to talk?'

Clarke lowered her weapon slightly, glancing down at Endin and Madi. 'Bellamy's in the caves to the east, with Kina. Go to him.' She smiled at Madi, lowering one hand from the gun to gently stroke her cheek. 'I'll come to you soon. I have something to discuss with the prisoners first.'

The woman frowned. 'Prisoners?' she asked, confusion in her voice. 'We're not – oh _crap_.' Her face fell in realisation. 'Keller is here?'

* * *

 **So my plan to spend the entirety of this week writing and publishing got waylaid by my idiotic self messing my back up and not being able to reach my laptop. I thought you weren't supposed to start falling apart in your 20s?**


	84. (LXXXIV) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

Madi didn't even wait to slow down before she was throwing her arms around Bellamy's stomach, nearly knocking him over with the sudden momentum. It didn't stop him closing his free arm around her shoulders and just holding her close for a moment.

'Thank God you're okay,' he murmured, glancing from Madi to Endin and Kina. Endin's skin was slightly blistered, but he was free of the blood trails the other two wore on their cheeks. 'What happened? How did you end up in perimeter three?'

Endin scowled at the floor. 'We were tracking a deer that refused to die. Didn't realise how far.'

'Next time, take a radio. Then we know where you are.' Bellamy inclined his head towards Kina as Madi finally released him. 'How are you and your sister? We didn't get proper looks at you from above.'

The boy knelt beside his sister, fingers stroking at the red stain. 'If Clarke can help her, she should be okay. She's resilient.' His smile was tender, and Kina shuffled closer until they were wrapped together. 'Madi too.'

Bellamy looked down at the young girl still at his side. 'Yeah, I know.' He squeezed her shoulder, and she looked up at him with big, green eyes, filled with tears that she was refusing to shed. His heart twisted a little, and after a quick glance to make sure Clarke was alright – that they hadn't pulled their guns on her yet despite her waving his in their faces – pulled her back into a hug, this time with both arms (the safety clearly on his rifle, of course. Clarke would kill him otherwise).

'What did they say to you?'

'The people from the ship?' Endin clarified, and Bellamy nodded. 'Not much – she wanted to know how close we'd been, and where we came from. When they reached for Madi, I tried to attack them and they grabbed me.'

'What did they want Madi for?'

'That's where it gets strange. They wanted to _help_ her. They didn't care about the fact she had Nightblood. They just wanted to treat her for the injuries from the thrusters.'

Nothing like the prisoners … Bellamy frowned in confusion, glancing back over to Clarke. She had her gun lowered now, pointing at their feet instead of their chests, but kept her distance from them. Was this another trick? Like Keller, pretending to be in need of help while preparing to take them all on?

Or offering assistance just to then turn around and rescind their help, making Skaikru victims – like A.L.I.E., like the Mountain Men?

He'd be damned if he let that happen, with Clarke as their first.

'What weapons do you have?'

Endin gave him a look. 'A bow with three arrows, and a sword. Kina had a sword, but I don't know where that's gone … and our mother had the other bow and quiver. She was somewhere behind us.'

'We'll find her,' Bellamy promised, scanning the ground between him and Clarke. 'Echo had a patrol looking for all of you, and we have rifles in use on top of the cliff that have scopes. Those handling them can keep a look out for her.'

Endin nodded, pushing himself back to his feet. 'Thank you, Bellamy.' He stepped forward, arms coming around Madi from behind. Bellamy released her completely, letting him pull her away. 'You want to go to her, yes?'

Bellamy waivered. _Of course_. But at the same time, he had a responsibility to Madi – and Endin and Kina. He had to keep them safe, and away from the rest of the prisoners in case they began an ambush.

And yet Clarke stood right in front of them, weapon down, the first target of any attack they launched. Even if she succeeded with her plan – to negotiate with them, to offer herself in exchange for medical supplies – she would still be in danger.

She would _always_ be in danger while these were the unknown.

'You know how to fire a gun?' he asked Endin as he slid the magazine out of the gun to check it was full. When the boy nodded, albeit hesitantly, he handed it over. 'Only shoot if you see one of them raise their weapons. Do _not_ initiate the war.'

'Understood.' Endin secured his grip around the weapon, and Bellamy reached for the sword discarded on the ground. 'Good luck.'

He barely even acknowledged the boy before he was making his way across the same uneven, dead ground Clarke had raced across not ten minutes before, all the while watching as the gun got lower, hand gestures bigger.

His heart beat faster.

 _Damn it, Clarke_. He stumbled over a loose rock, twisting his ankle awkwardly beneath him. Pain shot up his leg like fire. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ No, he couldn't be stopped by a twisted ankle – or a sprained or a broken one, whatever. He didn't care.

He had to get to Clarke.

Their voices reached him before anyone noticed his approach.

'- still alive. The rest were killed in a retaliatory attack.'

'We needed _him_ alive for questioning. He was the leader of that faction.'

'I'm sorry, but my people killed him to stop him killing _us_.' Clarke's voice was filled with restrained fury. 'If you wanted him alive, you should have found him sooner. We had to do what we had to do to survive.'

'Survival isn't everything. What is the sacrifice of two compared to the knowledge to find hundreds?'

'We didn't know _anything_ about you, and besides, your escapees won't live long without luck. The ground is mostly dead. No food. No trees. Unless they landed by a green spot, they're dead.'

Bellamy bit his lip as he put too much weight on his ankle, hopping the last few steps to the outcropping Madi had been behind – just beyond the small group. Clarke was commanding their attention, and she was too busy staring down the blonde woman who seemed to be in charge to notice his arrival.

He didn't fail to notice the other dozen or so slowly making their way out of the ship, some of them now visibly carrying their own guns.


	85. (LXXXV) Clarke

**Clarke**

'Look, what's done is done. We have other prisoners for you to interrogate in our lockup.' Clarke raised one shoulder in a small shrug. 'I came down here to talk because I need your help, and I think you need mine, too.'

The woman frowned. 'How can you help us?'

Clarke looked around her pointedly, and when the woman still continued to look at her with confusion, she sighed. 'Six years ago, nuclear reactors failed and caused a catastrophic wave of radiation. Almost all living things were killed.'

The group in front of her dropped their gazes, expressions turning sad and regretful. 'I spent most of those six years on the ground, learning where the animals now live, where the edible plants now grow. _Which_ plants are edible, and which are poisonous in one way or another.'

'And you want to … what, offer to teach us these things?'

'I'll show you how to survive, yes.' Clarke gave a small smile. 'There's a lot more to it than just what can and can't be eaten. There's places where the ground is about to collapse, some that seem to have toxic gases trapped underground. You need to know where these places are so you don't stumble into them and die.

'There's also a city that my people revered – they will not take intrusion lightly when they reclaim it. I would recommend staying far away from there if you want any threat of an attack minimised.'

One of the men murmured something; Clarke turned her gaze to him briefly, before noticing that just beyond him, others from the ship were beginning to emerge. She had to hurry, broker some form of peace before anyone felt threatened and opened fire.

The woman glanced at her companion briefly, before pursing her lips and regarding Clarke once more. 'Say we accepted your assistance. What would you request in return?'

 _Finally_.

Clarke looked towards the ship, taking in the burnt off paint and scorch marks. 'I'm guessing you have a medical facility. Hopefully, with sterile equipment and medicines?' At the woman's silence, she continued. 'I have a patient, who is suffering from tuberculosis. We don't have the medicines to treat her – the best I can do is an antibiotic tea or salve that keeps it at bay, but isn't curing her. Our doctors never saw a case of TB before this outbreak, and any medical supplies we could have used were lost when we crashed or in the radiation. We have no way to cure her.'

'This girl is special to you?'

Clarke chewed her bottom lip in thought, trying to find the right words. 'She's the most important person in the world to someone I care for, and I refuse to watch her die knowing that there might be a way to save her.'

The woman's face softened slightly, while one of the men grunted. 'We have the vaccines and the necessary medicines. We can help her, but she will need to stay in our medical wing for at least a month to get the first doses of the medicines into her system.'

A month? Octavia would never go for that – but then again, if it was that or inevitable death …

'Can you keep her unconscious?'

Why was she not surprised Bellamy had joined her? Clarke had to suppress the urge to sigh as the attention turned to him. 'If I know my sister, she'll never go for a month of treatment with you. She's already expressed _very_ strong ideas about your fate.'

He wasn't carrying his gun anymore, Clarke noted when she turned to him. Instead, he wore a sword over his back, though he made no move to unsheathe it. His pose was unthreatening – weight resting on his left side casually, like he didn't have a care in the world.

She had to bite back the question, snapping her focus back towards those from the prison ship. The woman was regarding Bellamy with interest. 'You want us to induce a coma while she is treated?'

'If that's what it takes.' Clarke called her attention back, stepping forward. 'There is an army on that ridge that she commands. If she wakes in your ship, she will initiate a war. And the people who follow her – they have a history of waging war until their last breath.'

'We want to avoid that war.' Bellamy took a hobbling step forward, coming to stand at her side. 'If we can find a way not to fight, we want it.'

'We all want a lot of things.' The woman looked to her companions, and Clarke took the opportunity to size up the others crossing the expanse towards them. Maybe twenty, carrying rifles in deceptively casual ways. 'We want to see our homes as we left them. We want to see the families we left behind – not all of us voluntarily. We _want_ our hundred years back.'

A hundred years?

 _A hundred_?

'I can promise to treat your sister. We have the supplies. We have the antibiotics, and we have a medical farm to produce more.'

'But you can't promise us peace.'

'I don't have that authority.' She hesitated, and Clarke felt Bellamy's hand brush her lower arm as if in warning. With a quick glance down, she realised why; she'd begun to tighten her grip on the gun still in her hand, ready to raise it again. 'If you come onto the ship – as proof that you will work towards peace – I can talk to our leader. Only she can make the final call on whether we prepare for a battle or work with you.'

Bellamy's hand closed around her wrist, tugging her back a half-step when his stability faltered. 'We need to alert our people first. If we walk into your ship was an armed guard, they won't question – they'll just begin their descent, weapons at the ready.'

'How do you intend to alert them? I see no radios on either of you.'

Bellamy, to his credit, barely hesitated. 'They have scopes, and snipers set up on the cliff edge. If we attract their attention and deliberately leave our weapons, they should get the message.'

The woman smiled. 'Okay then. You show your people that they do not need to march, and we will take you to Rina.' She backed away a few steps, waving her hands behind her. Those who had gathered and fanned out with their rifles relaxed. 'Oh, how silly of me to forget. I'm Louise.'


	86. (LXXXVI) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

The inside of the ship was just as dated, but impressive, as the outside.

Hobbling along with Clarke's arm around his waist for support (he was damn sure he'd broken his ankle now that he wasn't running entirely on adrenaline), he had to stop himself from admiring the various faded murals on the walls.

The prison guards – Louise had assured them that only the prison guards were currently free to roam, as had been their job in space – had clearly had too much time on their hands. Some had drawn people, their families; some had drawn buildings that had fallen to the bombs.

He recognised the Polis tower, in its former glory, in one of them. It was a crude drawing, but he'd grown too familiar to the appearance of that goddamn tower not to recognise it.

Someone had been from this very city, before the world had gone to shit.

Bellamy didn't have the time to dwell on that. Louise had kept two of the armed guards as she led them through the maze-like interior of the ship, and whenever he and Clarke flagged, one of them would half-raise their gun until she gave them a sharp look.

Even Clarke noticed it. 'We're not trusted,' she murmured as they turned a corner, grabbing at his arm which he'd slung over her neck tightly. 'They'll just as soon kill us as watch us right now.'

'Can you blame them?' Bellamy grunted as he put too much weight on his ankle, stumbling into Clarke slightly. She didn't make a comment, just tightened her grip around his waist. 'We appear out of seemingly nowhere, and tell them we've amassed an army on the cliffs above them.'

He heard her snort, and turned his face to her with a half-smile. 'We're right back to the dropship, with us as the Grounders, aren't we?' she asked, shaking her head almost as if in disbelief. 'Who would have thought?'

'At least this time, we can try to avoid the wars,' he murmured, noting Louise had slowed down as they approached a door. 'Ready to talk our way into peace?'

'We're here.' Louise turned to them before Clarke could answer him. 'Rina does not take threats lightly. She has led us during her cycles over the last forty years. She can be ruthless, and she won't hesitate to speak her mind.'

Bellamy shared a brief glance with Clarke, who set her jaw tightly. 'We understand,' he answered. 'A civil conversation, offering peace and asking for help.'

With a silent acknowledgement, Louise stepped up to the door. It was a simple lock – one that looked almost designed to keep people _inside_ instead of serving as an office or quarters. Was there a reason Rina was in a room with a lock on the outside?

Was this a trap?

Clarke tensed at his side as the door swung open. They were greeted not with an office, as they'd originally expected; instead, the door swung open to show a man shackled to a chair, face swollen and bruised, shirt torn and bloody. Behind him stood another man, shirtless and speckled with the blood that had clearly splattered from the break in the first man's nose.

'Keller was ordered to break some of our life support systems and to escape, along with the three other small groups of prisoners. Their orders came from _him_.' Louise spat at the doorway. 'Rina and Liam have been in interrogation with him for a month to find out how he avoided the security protocols and managed to arrange a mass rebellion.'

'You wanted Keller for more information because he's not breaking.' Clarke took a step forward, and Bellamy hopped alongside her until they were hovering in the doorway. 'What about the other groups?'

'Two dead on impact. We found the remains of their ships, one in England and one in Africa. No other signs of life anywhere close. We found the third in Russia. Half had died of malnutrition, the other half driven mad trying to survive on dead land. Those that didn't kill themselves to avoid capture are locked in our psychological evaluation chambers.'

Louise stepped up behind them, and before Bellamy could prompt for more answers on the others, she called out to her leader. The shirtless man glanced to the trio, and then into the corner behind the door.

The impression Bellamy had gathered from the beaten down man, and the subtle reverence in Louise's voice, was that Rina would be an intimidating woman – either in appearance or the general air about her. Like Octavia, or Lexa, Luna, Raven or Echo. A fierceness hidden behind a gentle appearance unless in the midst of a battle, but one that seeped through in every expression, every movement.

He didn't expect a woman who looked barely any older than he himself, with barely any substance to her. Rina was pale, with a flush high in her cheeks that didn't look healthy; her blonde hair hung limply and was tinged with the blood spatter from the man in the chair.

She looked … weak, and frail.

'Rina, this is Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake. They come to ask for peace, and medical assistance for one of their own. In return, Clarke offers to teach us the ground as it is now.'

Rina's eyes narrowed, and Bellamy felt Clarke flinch. 'He looks like he needs his own medical assistance right now, yes?' She tilted her head towards his ankle. 'Take him to medical. I will join once I have cleaned up and we will have a conversation about this … exchange for peace.'

 _Oh thank God._ His ankle was starting to burn, so treatment and a conversation would be a great start.

* * *

 **I'm still here!**

 **I'm so sorry, things got super stressful and crazy - two ill cats, an ill me, job applications and interviews ... I've barely had time to eat, let alone write or publish! But that's hopefully over now, so I'm back and hopefully will be able to get this thing finished in publication soon! Not long to go! (Exact time still fluctuating ... I've reworked the ending again a little. Drama in personal life led me to include drama in fictional life, oops!)**


	87. (LXXXVII) Clarke

**Clarke**

'Looks like your ankle is just a sprain, there's no sign of any fractures or breaks on the scans.' The doctor that Louise had ushered Bellamy to in the medical wing gave a smile to both Bellamy and Clarke. 'I would recommend you stay off it for a few days, but since you're here to talk to Rina about how our people can coexist, I'm guessing that's not an option.'

Clarke shook her head. 'We need to be able to move to talk to our people when we finish here, and if the terms are agreed, to bring Octavia back afterwards. And if things don't go our way …' She trailed off, glancing at Bellamy as he swung his legs back over the edge of the bed.

'Can't run, Princess,' he murmured, 'But I'll be as close behind you as I can.'

'It should not need to come to that. I have thought about the offer Louise gave when you arrived.' The odd way of speaking shouldn't have surprised Clarke – she'd lived with the Grounders for long enough, heard many different ways a person could enunciate their words in any language, yet somehow Rina's caught her by surprise. It was tinged with what she _thought_ could be another language, one she only half recalled from movies on the Ark as a child.

The woman herself crossed the threshold of the medical bay, nodding her head at the doctor in dismissal. 'You say you can teach us how to survive on the ground?'

'Yes.' Clarke straightened her back, inhaling deeply. 'I've spent the better part of six years traversing the country, trying to find supplies and shelter. I learnt what still grew. What parts of the ground to avoid.' From her pocket, she tugged out a battered copy of the map she'd drawn in her journal. 'I can show your people. They should have the advantage of Nightblood, too, so the last lingering traces of radiation shouldn't be too much of a problem for them.'

Rina frowned. The act made her look far older than she was, pulling at the gaunt skin of her cheeks. 'Nightblood?'

'The black blood. Keller had it, as did the other prisoners with him. I'm assuming it's the same for the rest of you.'

'You know of the black blood?'

Clarke nodded. 'Yes. The Grounders – the people who lived on Earth through the bombs – got Nightblood many years ago. It's rare, but it exists in their people. Our doctors were able to create it artificially, but only one sample, before we had to find shelter from the radiation.' She swallowed. 'The girl Louise saw from the ship – she's a Nightblood. Louise would have seen her bleeding.'

'Hmm.' Rina pursed her lips. 'Where did these Grounders get the Nightblood, as you call it?'

Still a fabulous question. Clarke glanced to Bellamy, finding the reassurance she needed to continue the conversation in his face. 'We think it came from a scientist called Becca. She created an artificial intelligence that the blood was supposed to help the host survive with. How it got into the general population from there, that's another question and one lost to their admittedly primitive record keeping.'

'Becca Martino? She was a scientist who partnered with the Eligius Corporation to create the serum that protected us from radiation. It had the side effect of turning our blood black.'

'Then it's likely the same person.' Clarke shook her head. 'We're getting sidetracked. To get back to the point, with the black blood your people have that little bit extra security against the radiation, but I can show you the areas you should still avoid for a while. Areas where the environment is still too harsh for life to exist for long periods of time.'

Rina held a hand out in a silent demand; Clarke was ashamed to admit it took her that little bit too long to realise she was asking for the map. When she handed it over, the other woman lay it flat on an empty bed to their side.

'What are these markings?' she asked, pointing. Clarke leaned forward to get a better look.

'They're the caves. There was a cave system built beneath Mount Weather that spanned _miles_. Some of them have now collapsed, and those are the ones that are marked.'

'And these?'

'Landslides from Mount Weather and the surrounding hills and mountains. Some areas remain passable only by climbing the debris or a diversion around them.'

Another noncommittal noise from Rina. Clarke glanced over her shoulder to where Bellamy was hesitantly standing, careful not to put too much weight on his now bandaged ankle. 'You'll need more than the map if you want to survive out there. There are predatory animals. Very, _very_ rare but incredibly deadly.'

'We have guns. They will not get close.'

'Maybe. But they are fast. When they come, they come with the intention to kill and to feast. I've seen them kill boars and rip them apart in a minute.' The memory made her shudder. So much blood spilled over the dusty plains the boar had fled to … 'We haven't seen any in two years but it doesn't mean there are no more.'

Rina pursed her lips, tracing the pads of her finger across the drawings. 'I do not think the people will venture far to begin with, acclimatising to the new land we are on … but eventually they will move further. We will need to know the land by then.' She paused, and dark eyes glanced from the map to Clarke and back again. 'Very well. Your assistance would be most useful. In return, we will provide medical assistance as Louise mentioned.'

A breath of relief came from behind her, and Clarke knew Bellamy was relaxing back against the bed. 'Thank you. We'll get our patient brought down from the cliff for treatment.' She exhaled softly. 'A thought – are your people vaccinated against TB? We don't want to cause another outbreak. We've lost too many already.'

Rina glanced over her shoulder. The doctor, who had been hovering in the corner, stepped forward. 'We can set up an isolation ward to be safe. Those of us sent on the original mission received shots before we left; those born during the mission have had basic immunisations, including TB, but their effectiveness is unclear.'

'It should be enough.' Clarke took a step backwards, coming to stop at Bellamy's side. 'We – Skaikru – received low doses of the vaccines as children and only the sick, or those who hadn't received them at all, fell ill during the initial spread.'

'We should still set up an isolation ward. I'd rather be safe than sorry with a disease like TB. If the ground is as dead and deadly as you say, we'll face enough challenges ahead. We don't need to add a preventable illness to the list.'


	88. (LXXXVIII) Raven

**Raven**

'So what the hell did they agree to?'

Abby shook her head silently as she loaded up a medical bag in the back of the truck. 'There's got to be a catch, right? There's no way a big ass ship like the prisoner transport would offer to help our sick and injured.'

'Clarke can be persuasive when she wants to be.' Abby gave the bag a forceful shove into position, one that Raven nearly missed. 'Let's get the last of these supplies loaded up, and get Murphy ready to move.'

Raven raised one eyebrow. Abby's tone was very no-nonsense, which meant there was something more, something she wasn't saying. But orders were orders. 'Roger that,' she replied, closing the door to the Rover where Jackson had finished loading his own set of supplies. 'All the tech is loaded and secured.'

It hadn't taken her long – a few of the radios left behind, her main radio rig in case they needed to set up a new command station, and whatever weapons she had found left behind. They'd jumped into action the moment the radio call from Kane and Bellamy came in.

Someone had done something amazingly stupid but sensible to get the treatment set up.

But _what_?

Raven hobbled around the edge of the Rover, trying to ignore the stiffness in her leg and the dull ache in her hip. Some small, traitorous part of her mind landed on the idea that the ship was offering treatment to the injured.

A lame leg that was caused by an injury surely counted, didn't it?

 _No_. She wouldn't ask for treatment from strangers, from prisoners. Not until she was assured that they wouldn't trap anyone, and that those more in need – Murphy, Emori, Gaia, Octavia – had been treated for their ailments.

Dammit, she had to let Murphy get treated. She felt guilty for letting him walk off and get caught by the prisoners. If they could do anything to help him, short of giving him his hand back …

Her musings were cut off by Gaia and Emori crossing the otherwise quiet hangar bay. Not far behind them, one of Indra's guards followed with a pack slung across his back. Their protection in case things went bad between now and their arrival at the ship, Raven supposed.

One guard.

Yep, that would do _wonders_ if things went wrong.

With a rueful shake of her head, she stepped forward to meet Gaia – with a surgical mask secured over her face for caution – and Emori, one hand pressed against her nearly-healed wounds. 'This is a bad idea,' Emori spoke when they came to a stop. 'We know nothing of these people.'

'You knew nothing of Skaikru when you told Murphy how to reach the City of Light,' Raven reminded her softly. 'We have to trust that whoever made the deal did it in everyone's best interests. John's included.'

The Grounder's face was twisted in torment, and fear. 'Look. We can leave John here, in Abby and Jackson's care, without a proper medical facility except for what's down in the Bunker and that's now been scavenged – or we can take him to the prisoner ship and kick the ass of everyone who tries to do him wrong and get him treatment in a sterile, stocked environment.'

Gaia sighed. 'We have no choice. We have to trust them.'

'I don't like it.'

'Like it or not, it's John's best chance.' Raven stretched her arm around, laying her hand carefully on her friend's shoulder. 'We'll be right there. I swear, if we see them do _anything_ to hurt him, we'll get him out.'

Her eyes watered, but before any more words could be spoken, the sound of rattling wheels came from the doorway. As one, the trio turned to watch as Jackson and Abby manoeuvred Murphy's bed towards the truck.

Emori jumped into action straight away, going ahead of the bed to climb inside and make the space for herself near where his head would be. Gaia and Raven hung back, waiting.

The cohesion between the two doctors would sort of amazing to watch, Raven had to admit. When she'd left the ground, Jackson had still been learning under Abby. There had been orders barked from the older woman, and he'd rushed about to do exactly as said with few questions.

There was none of that now. Now, they didn't even need to speak. Jackson slid into position, hands grasped around the blanket Murphy lay on, as Abby held onto the bed to keep it from rolling any further. Without a countdown, they lifted in sync, and as Jackson released the blanket to grab at the pillows, Abby lifted Murphy's head.

As Jackson lay the pillows down beside Emori, Abby lowered him again, only to grab at the restraints they'd fashioned to keep him from moving about too much.

Teamwork. Pure, perfect teamwork between two people.

'Was it always like this in the Bunker?' Raven whispered to Gaia, who she thought smiled behind her mask.

'Only since the outbreak. It seems that the doctor began to trust him more as they took on more and more cases between them.' She turned, wrapping her arms around her. 'Are we ready to go?'


	89. (LXXXIX) Kane

**Kane**

The truck pulled up just as Kane reached the ramp to the prisoner ship, Octavia cradled carefully in his arms. She was still unconscious, but breathing a little more evenly now since Clarke and injected her with something that the medics on the ship had provided.

The woman in question stood awkwardly beside the envoy they'd sent to accompany her, a woman called Louise, while Jackson climbed from the front of the truck. Moments later, Abby emerged from the back, face tight as she assessed the view in front of her.

Kane didn't blame her.

'Are we sure this isn't a trap?' she whispered when she reached Kane's side. 'They aren't doing this to lure us into a false sense of security?'

He shook his head. 'From what Clarke and Bellamy said, no. This is real.' He shifted Octavia's weight. 'We need this help, Abby. Octavia's getting worse, and they can treat her.'

'There has to be a better way than relying on strangers.' Abby's eyes ran over her daughter. 'What did Clarke promise them?'

Kane's mouth went dry. Clarke had deliberately kept their end of the bargain quiet until after the radio call to Arkadia, not wanting her mother to worry until she had a chance to defuse the situation before it began.

'Marcus.' Abby's voice was low, holding a tone of command. 'What did Clarke promise them?'

He exhaled softly, turning to look straight at the woman he loved. 'She promised to guide them in acclimatising to the planet. Meaning, she'll be staying with them even after we no longer have need of their medical supplies.'

'She can't do that!' Abby burst out, and Kane simply raised an eyebrow at her. 'She _can't_ stay with them, Marcus. We don't know enough about them, and she has a home with _us_!'

'She's doing this _for_ us, Abby.' Kane's attention caught on Jackson at the back of the truck, carefully laying Murphy onto a bed with wheels. 'We need to get these two inside. We can carry on the conversation later.'

Abby's expression was furious, but when Kane started to walk away, she had no choice but to help Jackson. Crisis averted – for a few minutes, anyway.

Clarke stepped forward as he approached the base of the ship's ramp. 'Kane, this is Doctor Ella Marsden. She's set up an isolation ward for Octavia and Gaia, and anyone else who might start presenting symptoms.'

Kane lowered his head in a respectful nod of greeting, hands otherwise occupied with Octavia. 'Thank you, for offering us the assistance we need. We are in your debt.'

Ella smiled, shaking her head. 'It is us who are in your debt. We came home expecting the land we left, filled with life – not a wasteland. Helping us live here is enough repayment for however I can help your patients.' She stepped forward, eyes turning to Octavia, though she maintained a few steps distance. 'Is this the one who suffers the most?'

'Yes.' Kane adjusted his grip again. 'She was one of the last to fall ill, but was exposed to all the others. We had nearly three hundred sick over the past year.'

Dark eyes shot up to his face in surprise. 'Three _hundred_?'

He nodded grimly. 'Only Octavia and Gaia survived the outbreak.'

Sadness filled the doctor's face. 'I'm sorry to hear that.' Her eyes dropped back to Octavia, though she still kept her distance. 'If you can take her to the isolation chamber, I'll get myself ready and protected so I can start treatment. We will cure her, Mister Kane.'

That's all he could ask for.

Clarke led him through the corridors of the ship to the isolation they'd set up. He didn't linger on the structure around him, or the wary eyes that watched him from through closed, glass-plated doors. Clarke kept silent, ignoring them too, until they finally reached an airlock filled with beds and IV stands.

'I'll go get Gaia too,' she muttered, stepping aside as the first set of doors slid open. 'And I guess I need to talk to Mom, right?'

'She worries about you.' He stepped through the first door, the briefest of glances upwards showing him that they did have decontamination set up. 'Give her some time. She's worried about you the whole time we were in the Bunker – she just needs to realise that in that time, you've grown up so much more than she could have imagined.'

Clarke nodded. 'I know. I understand her, I just … I'll talk to her, make her see reason about the deal.' She gave him a weak smile, blinking back tears. 'They'll set Octavia up with something to keep her under before anything else, so don't worry about that. Bellamy told them it was okay, and needed for their safety.'

He chuckled, understanding Bellamy's line of thought immediately. The little spitfire in his arms would surely cause chaos if she awoke on this ship anytime soon.

Before he answered, Clarke walked away, and the door slid shut behind him to start decontamination.


	90. (XC) Abby

**Abby**

They set Murphy up in a medical bay equipped with more than Abby could ever remember seeing. She'd spent most of her life in the medical area on the Ark – her father had been a surgical assistant, and her mother had spent a lot of time fixing up broken equipment there, but even with that …

They didn't have much, but what they'd salvaged from the twelve stations made a decent surgery. None had been properly equipped for long-term use, though.

Not like this.

Once the doctors, introduced to her as Khalil and Mya, had set up the IV bags for Murphy, she'd stepped back and fully taken in the sights. The walls, only slightly discoloured from the white they'd started out (instead of slightly singed metal); the counters filled with tools that gleamed under the bright lights; the open cabinet bulging with IV bags, meticulously labelled.

Honest, medical grade equipment she'd only seen in the few textbooks salvaged on the Ark. Anaesthesia machines, morphine pumps, laparoscopy sets.

It was a _dream_.

Jackson, at her side, was equally speechless as he looked around them. It was roughly five times the size of the room they'd become familiar with, with curtain rails hanging from the ceiling, ready to separate beds where necessary on one side, and three airlocks on the other with even more equipment, ready for operations in true sterile conditions they'd never been able to achieve in space.

'Impressive, yes?' Mya grinned at them from where she was arranging tools on the counter to their side. 'We no want big room when we sign up, but when we see room, we love it.'

'It's stunning,' Abby whispered, unable to keep the amazement from her voice. 'We've never seen anything quite like it.'

'It good for any medical procedure too. We have camera. We have medical farm. We do all procedure.' Her broken English was filled with pride as she gestured to the airlocks. 'We do operations. Two room, and recovery.'

'How many operations have you done here?'

'Three.' Mya set down the scalpel she had pulled from a drawer onto the tray covered in bandages. 'We do two appendectomy. We have one accident. Man got hit metal in stomach. He hit wrong place fixing engine, blew fuel up. He take year to recover.' She shrugged. 'He no good for manual labour now, but he good for cleaning staff.'

'You all have a job here then?'

'Yes. Only children no five without chores. It is our way.' Mya turned, effectively ending the conversation before Abby or Jackson could formulate a response. Slightly irritated, Abby followed as she approached Murphy.

Khalil gave her a shy smile from where he stood on the opposite side. 'He's responding to the antibiotics well. He was fortunate to only have a slight infection that we can treat easily. Your treatments have helped that. More than saved his life.'

Abby nodded. 'We did what we could. Thank you for going that step further.' She glanced down at her patient, noting that his face looked that little bit more relaxed – possibly an effect of the antibiotic, possibly the pain relief (they had morphine. Actual morphine). 'Where is the isolation ward? We have patients there too.'

Khalil raised one brow. 'I can take you, if you like. You don't want to stay with Mr Murphy?'

'No.' Abby glanced at the boy. 'He's close to regaining consciousness. Other than keeping him hydrated and keeping infection away, there's little to do for him. We _can_ help Octavia and Gaia still.'

Khalil nodded. 'Of course. He will be in good hands with Mya until he awakens fully. And it looks like one of yours can't be torn away from him either.'

It was true. Though she'd been kept out of the room while they set his bed up, Emori hung close to the door with wide eyes, watching every little movement with suspicion. Somewhere not far, Abby knew Raven was lurking too, keeping an eye on Emori.

'Lead the way.' Abby stepped to the side, letting the ship's medic pass by. With a moment's hesitation, and a last glance towards Emori and Murphy, she followed.

The ship was far more complicated than the Ark had been. Many corridors branched into three, four, even five new ones; rooms weren't arranged in the same block-style the housing had been on the Ark. They were scattered almost haphazardly, and from what she could tell, were varying sizes. Some doors were open wide, letting her see the standard metallic walls, many covered with posters of music bands and films from long ago.

'The original guards inhabited this wing,' Khalil explained as they passed by a room with haphazard paint splotches on the door. 'Seventeen of them, with their families, to begin; another seventy-nine have been woken at various stages to relieve the others and monitor the prisoners. Their rooms are further into the ship.'

'Wait – awoken?'

Khalil glanced over his shoulder at the two of them, shaking his shaggy hair from his eyes. 'Yes. We were sent into space with most of our passengers in a cryosleep. High radiation within it kept the bodies alive – that is why we needed the dark blood – until we were needed.'

'All of you were in cryosleep?'

'Everyone still aboard the ship, yes.' Khalil led them down a narrow corridor, twisting his shoulders so he could get through the door at the far end easily. 'The last of the original seventeen families died in the prisoner escape.'

Jackson caught Abby's eye, and she could see the same curiosity in his expression she was sure was in hers. Cryosleep – cryosleep would have been an immensely useful tool on the Ark. It might have meant they could have continued to survive in space past Praimfaya, if not the whole hundred years they'd expected to remain in the sky.

'When we're done in the isolation ward, would you be able to show us the cryo-chambers you would have been using?'

There was nothing like knowledge, after all.


	91. (XCI) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'Hey.' Bellamy smiled at Clarke as she stepped through the interior doors to the isolation ward, tray of food in hand. 'Is it that late already?'

'Six o'clock by Louise's calculations.' She crossed the wide space to the empty bed Bellamy had made into his table, not wanting to stray too far from Octavia who still lay unconscious. 'Kane's been out all day, Raven's been with Abby inspecting the cryo-chambers and Jackson's been occupied with checking those coming down with mild exposure to an atmosphere they'd not used to – figured you wouldn't have had food brought to you for a few hours.'

His mouth almost watered at the bowl of soup she placed in front of him. 'You'd be right.' He reached for the spoon on the tray, ducking under Clarke's outstretched hand to grab it before she could. 'Where's Emori? And Echo?'

'With Murphy.' Clarke glanced around, and when she spotted the spare chair in the corner, pulled it to the other side of the bed and her own small bowl of soup. 'He woke up for an hour earlier, so Mom and Mya have been running tests on him to check the wound's okay.'

Bellamy's eyes shot up to Clarke's face. 'Murf wok up t'do?' he asked around the spoon he'd jammed in his mouth. The food on the ship was next to heavenly after seven years of scavenging and algae, and he didn't want to wait any longer than he had to – even if he came to regret it when someone wanted a conversation with him.

Forcing himself to swallow, and lowering the spoon into the bowl, he cleared his throat at Clarke's smirk. 'Sorry. Murphy woke up?'

'Yeah. Mya says he's doing really well too. They've managed to stop the infection that was starting, and neaten up the surgery site a little too. They're going to see about getting him some sort of prosthetic sorted.' She rolled her shoulders back, cracking them slightly. 'Turns out they have their own Raven who has offered to help.'

'That should be interesting.' Another Raven? God, one was enough for him, thank you. 'Has Rina had a breakthrough with the prisoner yet?'

'No.' He dropped his eyes, downcast. 'He hasn't said anything yet, so she's still trying.'

Still no answer as to why people had been slaughtered. Bellamy tightened his lips for a moment, and then blew out a breath, pushing the anger away. It would do no good to dwell on something he couldn't have any impact on right now.

'How's Octavia?'

'Some improvement.' Bellamy glanced over his shoulder to the bed his sister lay on, dark hair spread around her, a stark contrast to her pale skin and the white sheets. 'She's breathing better, but they're keeping the breathing tube in. She's still running a fever. It's come down a little, but not enough for them to not be concerned.'

'She'll be okay, Bellamy.' Clarke's warm hand landed on his where he'd balled it up beside his bowl. 'Octavia's pulled through it before. This time she has expert help.'

He looked down at her small fingers, folded over his, heart swelling. 'I know she will. It's just hard, the feeling of helplessness. All I can do is sit here and watch over her. It's an enemy I can't help beat. There's no lever for us to pull for this one.'

Clarke remained silent, but he could imagine the raised eyebrow at his poor attempt at humour. He could pick his moments, that was for sure.

Her fingers tightened on his, and he exhaled. 'Thank you,' he whispered, risking one quick glance from below his lashes. Her smile was soft, but confused. 'For all this. We wouldn't have had this deal if it weren't for you.'

'We would have found a way. _You_ would have found a way.' Her voice was low, and heavy. 'You wouldn't have let it go to a war. You'd have made peace with them somehow.'

He shook his head. 'Not as easily as we did with you.' He turned his hand over, and her palm fell against his. He locked his fingers around hers, not tightly; just enough to know she was there. 'You're more important to everything and everyone than you know, Clarke.'

'As are you.'

'Not as much as you,' he reiterated, raising his head to meet her gaze with his own. 'You are the reason any of us are still alive. You're the reason we can continue to live.'

She shook her head at him, her curls bouncing around her face. The red had mostly washed out by now, leaving just the smallest hint of pink down one side. He had to admit, he sort of missed it already. 'You and Madi and Raven and everyone else are just as responsible, Bellamy. We've all played our part in this.'

'Clarke.' He tightened his hold, voice almost pleading now. 'Let me rephrase. I couldn't have got this far without you.'

'Bell-'

'For so long, I kept myself closed off from everyone. I had no friends. Nobody I could form a real connection with. Until you and I started leading the hundred at the dropship.' He inhaled deeply, watching as her eyes turned sad. 'I could never have gotten from the ignorant idiot I was then to the man I am now if it wasn't for you. If I didn't have you by my side – or at least the memory of you, encouraging me.'

'Bellamy.' Her other hand was on top of their joint hands now, holding his tightly. 'Please.'

'I owe you almost everything, Clarke,' he whispered, his stomach lurching as the first tear fell down her cheek. 'And it's okay. I know you're not ready for the words, or for a life like the one I always imagined, but I will always be here for you, waiting for the day you are.'

A second tear fell, and it took all of his power not to reach up to wipe it away as she shook her head. 'That's not it, Bellamy. It's more complicated than that.'

Her fingers traced a pattern on the back of his hand, and her lips folded up in a small smile. 'I owe you so much too. I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you. I wasn't strong enough.' She averted her gaze, staring over his shoulder, towards Octavia. 'But I can't say the words, even to myself. I can't go there again.'

'Go where, Clarke?'

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, biting back a laugh. 'On the Ark, life was so busy I didn't really have any social opportunities until we came down to Earth. Here, I lost Wells, and that broke a part of me. I … I rushed into relationships.' She swallowed, and he sucked in a breath. 'With Finn, there was an attraction but we didn't get to _know_ each other. And it ended so badly. With Niylah, there was affection, but nothing meaningful. With Lexa …'

'You don't have to say. I know how you felt about her.'

'No, you don't.' She shook her head again. 'With Lexa, there was attraction. There was mutual respect. But she betrayed us, and it wasn't until I was about to leave her that anything happened. Every single time, I've rushed into it. With those I thought I loved … once I realised I loved them, they died. In front of me, and because of me.'

Her nails were going to leave marks in his hand if she clutched any tighter. 'I can't do that again. I can't watch you die because of me.'

'Clarke …' What could he even say to that?

'I know.' She snorted, pulling her hands away to wipe at the tears running freely down her face now. 'I'm a mess. You're the only one I can show this to now.'

'You're not a mess.' He glanced around, looking for – there, the packet of tissue in the corner. Quickly, ignoring the screech of his chair as he stood, he moved to grab it. Clarke took it gratefully, ripping a handful of sheets off to dab at her eyes. 'You've been through more than your share of heartbreak. I don't mind.'

'Yes, you do.' She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to help calm herself. Bellamy watched as the flush in her neck receded slightly. 'You're here in front of me while I'm talking about the other people I loved.'

'The people who helped make you the woman you are today.'

'Still not a good conversation.'

'I really don't mind.'

She sighed, and Bellamy lowered himself back into his seat. 'I'm not going to force the issue, Clarke, but I just need it out there. I need you to know how I feel. And it's okay if you don't feel the same.' He reached over the table again, grabbing at the hand she'd put down, tissues wadded in her grip. 'I'm not asking for anything more than what we've already had.'

'That covers a lot, Bellamy,' she responded drily.

He had to suppress his smirk. 'Fine. As long as we can keep what we had before Praimfaya, I'll be happy just being in your life. Does that sound okay to you?'

Her eyes were red and puffy now, but they softened again as he clutched her hand between both of his. She nodded, silently, and he smiled at her as her tears started again.

Just being in her life was good enough. He could work on the rest when she was ready.

* * *

 **What better way to celebrate a release date announcement than a Bellarke chapter?**


	92. (XCII) Raven

**Raven**

'So, you're the guy they think can come up with a prosthetic for my friend.'

The man in front of her was rather impressive, if Raven were being absolutely honest with herself. When Khalil had mentioned an engineer who had previous experience in medical appliances and designs, she'd been sceptical. If she couldn't come up with an idea for Murphy, then could this guy?

But seeing him in his workshop now …

Dark eyes danced with amusement as the man looked up from the hinge he was tinkering with. 'You must be Raven. Khalil warned me you were feisty.'

'Feisty? Me?' She snorted, cocking a hip against the workbench. 'Can't say he's wrong.' She nodded towards the hinge. 'What's that for?'

'Noticed your friend Clarke had a brace on her hand. Figured I could play around with a few ideas between waiting for the moulds to set for your other friend.' He shrugged, lowering the tools in his hand. 'Looks like you could do with one too, for that leg.'

'Hey, my brace is great.' Raven tapped the band around her thigh, one side of her mouth rising. 'Built it myself. This general design has done the job for six years, with some adjustments for damages and environmental changes.'

'I can make a better one.' The man winked, face full of glee.

'Bet you say that to all the girls.'

'Only the ones that come into my shop with a piece of gear that could do with some TLC.'

Okay, it was official. Raven was interested. With lips pursed to contain her laughter, she rounded the workbench to where the man was sat on his stool. 'TLC, maybe. Revamp … show me what you got, and I'll improve it.'

He smirked. 'Sounds like a sweet deal to me.' He pushed the other stool out with his foot, far enough that she could hoist herself onto it with little effort. 'Name's Zeke.'

'Zeke. Huh.' She tapped her lips as if in though. 'Have to say it suits you.'

He winked at her again, before turning to his projects. Moving the hinge aside, he reached for a roll of paper. 'I'm pretty sure this isn't just a social call, so shall we get the business out the way so we can get back to the fun of tinkering around with inventions?'

She gestured her agreement, and he swept the roll open in front of them. 'So, Khalil says your friend's got no chance of a nerve attachment to mechanics to create an artificial hand, because of the way the amputation was originally stitched up. Is that correct?'

'Hey, he's the doctor here, not me.' Raven held her hands up as if in surrender. 'If you're asking if we can cyborg him, that I would have understood, and been able to tell you – not a chance.' Her eyes scanned the diagram in front of her. 'You guys have the equipment and know-how to do that?'

Zeke rocked his head from one side to the other. 'It's … theoretical. We've never done it, but just before we left for the mission, one of the hospitals in the UK managed to connect loose nerves to an electrical circuit that allowed the person to move their prosthetic toes.'

'We didn't have that knowledge on the Ark.' Raven frowned, dragging the diagram closer to her. 'I trolled the archives many times, looking for anything relating to engineering and mechanics as a kid. I don't remember seeing biological cybernetics anywhere.'

'You wouldn't have.' Zeke pulled a second roll towards him. 'The surgery was kept low key. There were major ethical objections from multiple boards, but the patient paid privately and so was treated privately. The only reason I know about it was a contact of mine filed the discharge paperwork two weeks after the surgery. Thought I might be interested in knowing it had happened.'

Raven narrowed her eyes. 'Isn't that in itself unethical? A breach of some sort of confidentiality law that used to exist?'

'Sue us.' Zeke spread the second roll open. 'Friend's sadly long dead, as are the boards that would push for any charges. I think I can get away with that breach.' He nodded towards the diagram on this page. 'Lacking any option for cybernetics, the next suggestion is a multi-jointed prosthetic controlled via muscle tics, picked up by a sensor just beneath the skin of his wrist.' He tapped the drawing. 'Thoughts?'

'I've seen _this_ idea before.' Raven scanned the plans, mentally logging the scribbled notes. 'Some physics guy had one of these on his cheek or something?'

Zeke nodded. 'Hawking. Not under his skin, but very similar idea, yes. If we can run some tests, get some data on how your friend transmits muscle orders in his left hand, we can translate that into functions of the device we'll install for his right hand.'

'Which will talk to the prosthetic and simulate the movement, as if it were his real hand.' Raven nodded, mind suddenly flying with ideas. 'There'll be a delay as the transmitter picks up the order and translates it, but without tapping directly into his nervous system … Zeke, you're a genius!'

'So I've been told.' He grinned, and Raven bounced – yes, _bounced_ – in her seat. 'Khalil's already made me a mould of his left hand, which I've flipped. It's just setting now to give us an idea of what we need to work with.'

'Great.' Raven pushed herself from the stool, glancing around the workroom for a second set of tools and some materials. 'If we can get the skeleton set up now, we can start measuring Murphy's movements and run some practice runs while seeing how the actual thing should move, before we bring it back here to finalise it.'

'It's not going to be an easy job. We'll need to be able to code, and I don't know about you, but that's one thing I'm not brilliant on.'

She laughed. 'I spent months with an AI code in my head. I've got a few skills still. And if I can't do it, one of my other friends is an expert in hacking computer terminals.'

Oh, this was going to be _fun_.


	93. (XCIII) Kane

**Kane**

Two weeks.

Octavia had been unconscious for two weeks, at Bellamy's request, while antibiotics were cycled through her system to battle the tuberculosis. She was improving every day, but they hadn't yet removed the breathing tube.

He'd asked Louise about that, when she did her rounds that morning. _'Data is good. But until we know how extensively the TB has damaged her lungs, we're taking no chances while she's unconscious._ '

Abby had agreed when he'd spoken to her an hour later, just a brief meeting before she ran to attend to a man who'd decided it was a good idea to climb the cliff while drunk. He was still alive, but barely, from the last Kane had seen when he'd paced past the med bay.

The ship was damn impressive. He couldn't deny it. In the time they'd been guests, he'd seen just how ramshackle the Ark had truly been. It hadn't been designed for long-term inhabitation. The Gagarin had. It had more equipment, of better quality, with more provisions – and a much, much bigger farm station than he'd dreamt of. Foods he'd only read about grew there, like corn and potatoes and radishes.

And best of all? There had been no ill will from any of the Gagarin inhabitants. The only ones who had any objection to their presence were the worst of the worst prisoners, but they were kept in lock up until a decision could be reached.

Rina's vote was to execute them, which Indra heartily agreed in most cases. Those still unsure kept the others alive, for now. But the decision would need making soon. There was no chance of putting it off for too long. They were using supplies that were growing scarce with the additional nine hundred being supported, however little some of them chose to partake in.

Kane had held back from voting for now. Not because he didn't have his opinion – some of the prisoners definitely did _not_ deserve to live – but because he wasn't prepared to be the one making that decision, _again_ , without input from others who had spent their month too busy to sit and properly discuss.

Abby had been occupied with her patients; Clarke had been distracted, teaching the Gagarin people the land; Bellamy had spent all his time in Octavia's room, looking at maps to work out where the best places to rebuild villages would be. Niylah was gone, Gaia was unwilling to make a choice that killed those she knew nothing about, and there was no Jaha to turn to anymore.

The leadership he'd once held in such high regard hung heavy now, decisions he didn't want to make left on his shoulders. He regretted the man he'd once been, power hungry and determined – a man that he swore never to become again.

Unknowingly, he had made his way to the med bay during his musings. The door stood open, chatter – and some laughter – spilling out. He recognised Raven's voice, and Monty's, joking around with each other. He paused, listening to them. Emori added to their conversation, and Clarke's soothing voice followed it up.

Kane hovered, just listening to the children – no, not children anymore – as they talked about something mechanical. The words didn't mean much to him, and honestly, he didn't need them to. He was content simply in the knowledge his people were happy. Happy and free.

Just beyond the doors, Abby's once-familiar laugh sounded loudly. Kane couldn't help but smile at how carefree she sounded. God, he loved that sound.

He turned, stepping forward until he could see through the open door. Murphy was sat up on the bed, Raven, Monty and one of the Gargarin gathered around him. Monty was bent over some contraption, while Raven and the newcomer grinned at each other in success.

Clarke and Emori sat on the bed opposite them, Abby leaning beside her daughter, as they watched the others work together. Monty straightened, exposing the rough skeletal design of a hand. A device to replace the one Murphy had lost? He was impressed.

Abby saw him in the doorway first, her smile only growing as Raven let out another cry of delight. The skeletal fingers moved, bending inwards. 'Marcus! Have you seen the wonders Raven, Monty and Zeke can do together?' She pushed off from the bed, stretching one hand out to grab his arm as she got closer. 'They've made a mechanical hand. One that responds to the muscles around his wrist to move as his hand would have.'

'Mostly.' Raven stepped around the bed to stand beside Monty, poking at one of the wires coming from the index finger. 'There's a bit of a transmission issue with releasing the thumb. Shouldn't take us too long – it's not the coding, it's the actual joints not responding to each other.'

Murphy rolled his eyes, settling further into the pillows of his bed. 'A flaw in a Reyes design? Never.'

'If you weren't practically an invalid …' Raven muttered, and Kane let out a small laugh, stress melting away from his shoulders as Abby unconsciously stepped closer to him. 'Once we get this joint set up, are we ready to case it, Zeke?'

Zeke, who had started detaching the wires from Murphy's wrist, looked up at Raven. 'Case it? Really? Such a crude phrasing.' He winked as he ripped open the Velcro of the band that had been holding the wires in place. 'If you mean encase it in the silicone mould to create a more lifelike appearance, then yes. We are.'

'Finally,' Murphy groaned, stretching his arm out once Zeke stepped back. 'God that thing is itchy.' He scratched at his covered stump, making Kane flinch slightly. 'What do you want? Not bringing more bad news, are you?'

'Not today.' Kane shook his head as the attention turned fully to him. 'Just passing by, not here with any other intentions.' He glanced around them all, noting Emori's relaxed posture as she leaned backwards on the bed.

'Good. We don't want any bad news.' Zeke gathered the mechanical hand up carefully. 'Raven, you coming to work on this?'

'Sure.' Raven pushed forward, and Kane stepped out of the way as she and Zeke left the room, murmuring amongst themselves. If he wasn't mistaken, there was something more between the two of them …

'I should get back to the farm,' Monty said, drawing Kane's attention back to him. 'They have a harvest almost ready, and lost a third of their farmers during the prisoner escape.' He nodded at Murphy, smiled at Clarke, and then made his way towards the door himself.

'Something I said?' Kane whispered to Abby as Clarke hopped off the bed. Abby shook her head in amusement. 'Madi not with you, Clarke?'

'She's with Arida and Kina, helping out in the farm,' Clarke explained as she reached for the bag at her side. 'Endin's outside with Harper and Miller, training.' She lifted the bag to her shoulder, before crossing the room to the pair of them. 'I should get going too. Louise wants to get some of those antibiotic plants. We'll get some more nuts and berries and mushrooms while we're out too.'

'Take Echo with you. She could do with getting away for a bit.' Kane had seen her that morning, the stress from dealing with so many new people obvious. A break for a supply run would probably do her a world of good.

'Already planned on it.' Clarke gave him a smile. 'We'll be back before dark, but we'll have a radio if anything happens.'

He nodded, and with a quick hug for her mother, Clarke left the room too. Murphy just sighed, pushing himself further into his pillows and closing his eyes, while Emori rolled onto her side to watch him in silence.

He took advantage of the quiet, and the calm, to pull Abby into one of the side rooms with a quick, 'We should talk.' She came easily, and when he shut the door behind them, she was perched on the edge of the desk.

'I think I know what this is about.' Her voice was muted, and when Kane looked at her, she had her eyes downcast. 'And I'm sorry for how I've acted for the past six years. You didn't deserve anything I said or did.'

He sighed, slumping against the door. 'I did. I went against your wishes.'

'You saved my life even when I thought I didn't want it saving. I hated you for that for a while – but if you hadn't, I'd never have seen Clarke again. Never seen the beauty of the ground again, even if it is scorched now.' She looked up, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. 'I realise now that what I wanted was selfish.'

'What I did was selfish, too. I wanted to save you because of how I felt for you, not because of Clarke or our people.' He straightened again, moving closer. When he settled on the edge of the desk beside her, she shuffled over until she was leaning against his arm. 'If I was surviving, I wanted you to survive too.'

'I would have done exactly the same thing, Marcus.' She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, letting her hair fall forward to cover her expression. 'I'm just sorry it took me so long to realise it.'

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, felt her shudder against him. 'It's okay.'

'I love you, you know?'

His heart jumped at the words, and his smile returned. He buried it in her hair, carefully manoeuvring his arm until it was wrapped around her shoulders. 'I know.'


	94. (XCIV) Clarke

**Clarke**

The prisoner broke on day twenty-three of Wonkru's joining with the Gagarin.

Battered, broken and bleeding, the prisoner – Robert, they were informed by Louise – spat out a tooth in a spray of blood before finally beginning to talk.

Clarke, Indra and Kane hurried to observe the moment Rina's messenger advised them of this development, abandoning what they were doing. The prisoner's confession and the potential exposure of others in on the coup was the priority.

Bellamy was there when Clarke arrived, breathless from her race through the maze-like corridors of the ship's cryodeck. His face was blank, showing nothing as she nearly tripped over the doorway in her haste to get inside.

'He hasn't named anyone yet.' Louise cleared a space before the observation window for Clarke, folding her arms over her chest. 'He's confessed that he was involved, that he, Keller, Michel and Elana came up with the plan between them.'

The three leaders of the three factions that had broken off. That was a good start – but they were all dead. All proven guilty, and all killed already.

'I'm guessing none of them had the engineering expertise to sabotage their companion's cryopods?' Bellamy asked, and Louise shook her head.

'We looked into that possibility as soon as we realised what had happened. None of them ever had training on how the cryopods worked except for how they needed to be situated within them for the procedure to take effect.' Louise sighed. 'It had to be someone likely still on the ship with the knowledge – but we're talking at least fifty people trained prior to the mission's start, and another hundred at least born during the mission who were trained by others. And _then_ , you've got those who've just picked it up during their day-to-day jobs.'

'So basically the whole ship, apart from the prisoners, are potential saboteurs.' Kane reached one hand up to massage the bridge of his nose.

Louise nodded reluctantly. 'That's why Rina and Liam have been working on him. Without the name, we're blind to whether or not we still have a saboteur amongst our ranks, and who knows what chaos they could cause if we don't know to stop them.'

Beyond the glass, Liam flexed his shoulders as he stepped away from Robert, blood spatter staining the white vest he wore. 'I told you, we didn't know the details. We came to an agreement, the first chance we got we'd escape. Then _she_ came to us and told us she knew a way.'

'Who is _"she_ ", McCreary?' Liam's deep voice was tired, which Clarke really couldn't blame him for – just how long had he spent trying to get the information from the prisoner? How many hours each day, how many days each week? _How many weeks_? 'We need a name.'

'Fuck you, Hudson.' Robert spat a glob of bloody spit at the bigger man's feet. 'How do I know you haven't already found her?'

'If we had found her, you think we would still be here with you?' Rina spoke up from where she was leaning in the corner. Clarke's gaze snapped to her. The woman blended in so well, she had almost disappeared into the wall. 'The name, Robert.'

Robert snarled, yanking at the cuffs holding his wrists behind his back. 'Deal first.'

'No deals.' Rina's voice was cold. 'You killed two hundred in the escape. You killed Zara and Ian.'

'You promise me you won't execute me – you'll set me free instead – and I'll give you her name.'

An idea took root in Clarke's mind then, as Liam stepped forward, muscles bulging again. ' _No deals_.'

'Then no name. I'll give you everything but who she is.' Robert sank back into his chair, smirking. 'She disabled the cryolocks on the other prisoners, waking them up. She gave us the map to the ships, and provisions to keep us alive until we reached the ground. She rigged the explosives that jetted the ships out.'

'Except yours.' Rina stepped forward. 'She did not rig yours.'

Robert snarled again. 'And when I see that bitch, she's going to pay for that. That fucking _bitch_.'

'What was your plan, Robert? Why did you want to leave the colony?'

He laughed at that, the sound so disturbingly dark Clarke shuddered. 'Why wouldn't we? We were prisoners. We were _tortured_. Forced to work day by day mining those fucking asteroids until our bodies were worn down to _nothing_? Expected to work until the day we died?' He shook his head. 'We had a better chance leaving the asteroids and aiming for Earth. For home.'

'Some decision that turned out to be. The Earth is a scorched mess. There's barely a thousand other humans that we've found.' Liam shook his head in sadness. 'At the colony, you had some freedom. Here, you're just a prisoner. One who will be executed for treason.'

'Execute me and you get no name, remember?'

The idea rose again in Clarke's mind. 'I know a place,' she whispered to those around her, and she could see Louise jump in surprise. 'The cave system completely collapsed beneath Mount Weather. A person can get into them, and while it might look like they can get out, it's not possible – not alone. Madi barely got out when we tried to explore them. And the food there – there's not much of it, but what there is is poisonous.' God, was she really suggesting this?

'A place he thinks he can be free … but can never be.' Louise's eyes widened, while Bellamy's narrowed. 'It could work, if Rina and Liam go for it.'

'Can you suggest it to them?'

She nodded, and dashed out of the door without another word. The second she was in the corridor, Bellamy's hand closed around Clarke's arm.

'Are you _insane_? You're suggesting sending a man to his death!'

She raised her chin defiantly. 'We need to know who the saboteur is. And men like Robert McCreary don't deserve to live.'

'All men deserve life.'

'Not this one, Bellamy. Didn't you hear Rina? He arranged for the death of two hundred people in space, and his followers came and killed some of ours. They want chaos and death.' She yanked her arm free, glaring at him. 'Besides, he'll be killed anyway. At least this way we get the information from him before he dies.'

'She has a point, Bellamy,' Indra spoke up from her spot in the back of the room. 'The man will die one way or the other. It is best to get what we need from him first, and if false hope is the only way to do that, then we must use that method.'

Bellamy frowned, jaw tightening. 'I don't like it.'

'Do you want to risk Octavia's life, not knowing who on this ship can't be trusted?'

His eyes widened, filling with shock and hurt. Clarke hated herself the moment the words came from her mouth. Using Octavia was a cheap shot, really. She'd always be Bellamy's priority, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

She hated exploiting his weaknesses.

When he still didn't budge, she had to press further. 'Do you want to risk _Madi_?'

His mouth opened, then closed without a sound. Seconds later he opened again, but before he could speak, the tinny echoes of alarms began somewhere in the depths of the ship. One alarm became two, and three and four – until the unmistakeable noise had reached the room they were in, red lights beginning to flash on the ceiling in warning.

'What in the world …?'

Beyond the glass, Liam's shoulders tensed, and then the big man was sprinting across the small room to the door. Louise stood frozen for a moment, before following suit. Rina scowled, sparing barely a glance for the lights or her companions, as she returned to Robert. ' _The name_ ,' she growled.

The door to the observation room wrenched open, Liam's big shape appearing. 'We need to evacuate. _Now_. That's the alarm for the engines. They're leaking toxic chemicals into the air vents.'

' _THE NAME_!'

The four of them sprung into motion instantly, and Liam moved out to their way to race back into the interrogation room, calling Rina's name.

They filed through the doorway, but as Louise gestured for them to run left – towards the entrance ramp – Bellamy stopped, expression torn. Clarke stopped with him, confused for just a moment until she remembered.

'Octavia,' she breathed, and Bellamy nodded. 'If they're evacuating … med bay is closer to the doors than we are. Khalil was with Mom. Mya won't be able to evacuate Octavia by herself.'

'I have to go to her, Clarke.'

'I know.' Clarke threw a glance over her shoulder, at Kane and Indra's rapidly disappearing forms. More bodies swept in from side corridors, making their way outside. 'I'm coming with you.'

'No. You need to find Madi.'

'Madi's already outside. She was on a supply trip back to Arkadia.' Small mercies. 'We need to get Octavia out.'

Bellamy barely had a moment to process; Clarke saw the frustration, relief and determination flash across his face, before he nodded. As one, they began to sprint back down the corridors to the isolation ward.

The corridors were empty. The whole side of the ship was empty. The alarms blared, but nobody passed them – did that mean …?

'Octavia!' Bellamy slammed the button to the isolation ward door, barely waiting long enough for it to slide open. There was a failsafe built in, Clarke realised when the inner door opened without a decontamination procedure.

There was no sign of Mya. Gaia stood beside Octavia's bed, face perplexed but also panicked. 'We need to get you out of here,' Bellamy almost shouted, coming to a stop beside his sister's head. 'The alarm apparently indicates toxic chemicals in the air. We need to get out.'

Gaia's eyes darkened, but she nodded her understanding as she spun to begin detaching wires from the machines. Clarke joined her, thanking every star that Octavia's breathing tube had been removed the day before now her breathing was much, _much_ improved.

It took them maybe a minute to free Octavia from the various IVs and monitors, but the second Clarke yanked the last IV line out, Bellamy pulled her to his chest and took off at a run. The women weren't far behind him.

They made it a little over halfway before Clarke nearly barrelled into Bellamy's back. He had turned a corner before stopping dead, muscles clenching Octavia just that little bit tighter to his chest. Confused, and worried, Clarke peered around him.

Robert McCreary stood in the middle of the corridor, a woman's arm around his waist supporting him. Her other arm was held in front of her.

Pointing a gun directly at them.

* * *

 **The ending has been written. The chapters are all planned out - and, pure coincidence until I hit chapter 95, has ended up as 101 story chapters. They've all been uploaded to FFN so I can just submit as we go, with updates on a Wednesday and Saturday. The epilogue which I have also written is set to publish on Valentine's Day ... so one more month until this story wraps up in a way I love but was so sad to write.**

 **Chapters are also getting slightly longer as I wrap the story up - some are nearly 2k! Good for you guys I guess!**

 **Also advance warning - character death coming up.**


	95. (XCV) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

'Let me guess. You set off the alarms as a diversion to free him?'

'Very good. But also an obvious conclusion.' The blonde woman in front of him smiled, cocking her head to the side. 'You should not be here. You should be outside with the others. Now I have to kill you.'

Behind him, Bellamy heard Clarke and Gaia come to a stop, breathing just as heavily as he was from the run. With barely a thought, he stepped to the side slightly, protecting them from the gun the woman held in front of her.

'You're the woman he wouldn't name.'

'But of course.' She shrugged, and Robert groaned as the movement jostled his still-bound hands – though they were in front of him now. 'I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to get the answer. You can't tell Rina or Liam.' She sighed. 'Such a shame. They were so close to finding out. But they never were the brightest.'

He shifted Octavia's weight in his arms, trying to think of a solution, a way out of this. 'Charmaine Diyoza. Pleasure to meet you for the two minutes, Mr Blake.'

'Kill him, you'll have to kill us too.' Clarke stepped around Bellamy, coming to stand in front of Octavia's head. 'We will tell Rina and Liam. They will find you.'

Robert laughed weakly, shaking his head. Blood still dripped from his split lips. 'They couldn't find her in all the time since our rebellion. Without you, they still won't.'

'Enough of this already.' Charmaine sighed. 'Damn, but it is a shame. You are all so good looking. The world will be a much duller place.' She levelled the gun at Bellamy's chest. 'I'm sorry your sister never got to see the inside of the ship.'

'Just shoot them already,' Robert growled, and Charmaine glanced at him briefly. Her expression was … adoring, almost, for a second before she turned her attention back to them.

'Gladly.' Charmaine grinned. 'I think I'll start with … you.'

She spun her arm towards Clarke. Bellamy's heart seemed to stop.

If he jumped in front of Clarke, Octavia was at risk – but if he didn't, Clarke would die. One of the two people he loved was in danger either way.

But he couldn't just stand there, dammit. Couldn't let Clarke die.

Charmaine levelled her arm, resting her finger on the trigger, and Bellamy's decision was made.

The gunshot echoed loudly in the metal corridor, and Clarke screamed in pain, reeling backwards and clutching at her shoulder. Bellamy growled, not waiting to make sure Gaia grasped Octavia as he pushed her into her arms, before he was pushing Clarke behind him.

The second bullet hit him in the lower chest. Fire like he'd never known before speared him, and he stumbled backwards a step or two. Warmth spread down his stomach. Some abstract part of his mind told him it was his blood, running from the wound.

The third bullet hit his left shoulder, jolting him back another step, crashing into Clarke. She screamed again, and when he wobbled, she didn't move any further – she was trapped against the wall by his weight.

Good.

'God damn you, why won't you just die?' Charmaine screeched, and Bellamy blinked as her shape wavered in front of him. 'You know what, fine. You're just going to bleed out anyway.'

Her gun swung again, pointing this time at Gaia, who was on her knees, Octavia's head cradled in her lap. Her back was a wide open target, protecting his sister as she was. Through the fog slowly claiming his mind, Bellamy was grateful for that, that she'd folded herself over his sister's head to protect it.

Clarke's small arm wrapped around his waist as his knees began to shake with the effort of staying upright. 'Bellamy, no!' he heard in his ear, and with more effort than he was familiar with, he turned his head slightly until he could see her.

Clarke's blue eyes were filled with tears, which fell without thought, leaving trails down her cheeks. He watched one in near fascination as he heard yet another gunshot, accompanied by a grunt from Gaia.

'Don't you dare do this to me, Bellamy!' She shook her head, pulling him down with her – or maybe he pulled her down, he wasn't sure. His legs did feel weak though.

A fifth gunshot, a cry of pain from Gaia. A sixth – and she didn't respond.

'Gaia!' Clarke's cry echoed from some distant place.

Charmaine laughed. 'One down. One halfway there. Two to go.'

'We're wasting too much time. Too much ammo.' Robert's voice, but Bellamy couldn't see him. 'Kill them and then let's get the hell out of here before Rina realises it was a trick.'

'Bellamy.' Clarke's voice was soft in his ear, and he had to blink several times to bring her face into focus. 'Don't you dare die on me, okay? I can't do it again. You know I can't do it again. I can't lose someone else I love!'

He smiled at that. 'S'okay,' he whispered back, letting his eyes slide shut as the fires from his stomach and shoulder met. 'Not goin' nowhere.'

'Give me the gun, Charmaine.'

'I got this.'

'Give it. _Now_.'

He could hear their argument, and it drowned out Clarke's gentle whispers. No, wait, not whispers. His mind knew the noise she was making –

The humming noise.

The one she'd used to soothe Atom.

'Not. Going,' he growled, but he had to admit he was weak. Far, far too weak. He tried to open his eyes again, but they didn't seem to respond to him. 'Not … not dying on you.'

He felt warmth on his forehead. His mind supplied the cause. _Clarke's kissing my forehead._ No. He shook her away. That felt … final. Like a goodbye.

Dammit, he was _not_ saying goodbye today!

A seventh gunshot echoed, and then the gun clicked empty as an eighth shot was attempted.

Small mercies.

No more bullets meant no more shots. Meant Clarke was safe. Meant Octavia was safe – he hoped. Meant Gaia would be okay.

He sighed, letting his weight fall further into Clarke's embrace. She squeezed him, and he could feel her breath on his ear – but he couldn't hear what, if anything, she was saying.

The darkness was fast approaching, and he couldn't fight it anymore.


	96. (XCVI) Raven

**Raven**

'They went to get Octavia, didn't they?'

Raven glanced over her shoulder at a very ashen-faced Zeke, who stood in the middle of his workshop, mask firmly in place. He'd given one to Raven, too, but she'd cast it aside as she stood in the doorway, watching people running past. The radio on her belt kept chirping with calls to Bellamy and to Clarke, now that she'd signalled herself safe and ready to evacuate.

'How do we get to the isolation ward from here? We have to help them.'

'You can't get there fast enough on that leg, Raven.' Zeke stepped forward, shaking his head. 'That alarm means toxic gases. Potentially including cyanide depending on which engine has gone.'

'Why would you have an engine that produces a cyanide byproduct?' Raven rolled her eyes. 'We need to find Clarke and Bellamy, and make sure they're okay. Can you help me or not?'

His eyes were anguished above his mask, but after a long moment of watching her, Zeke nodded. 'We can get to isolation from the main corridor. It's the fastest way out, and the way your friends are likely to go.' He grabbed her mask from where she'd tossed it on the table. 'Humour me, okay?'

She glared at him, but really, they couldn't waste any more time arguing. Snapping it into place, she gestured for him to take the lead.

They were two corridors away from the main route when the gunshots began. The pair froze, and Raven's mind struggled to understand. For a moment, her brain jumped to a mechanical failure – some component coming loose somewhere and causing a bang – but the scream that followed it, and the second shot shortly after, confirmed her fears.

'You need to get out.' Zeke turned to her, grasping at her shoulders with shaking hands. 'I don't know who that is, but you need to _go_.'

'If my friends are there, I need to help them.' Raven pushed at his chest, but he didn't give. ' _Zeke_. If there are gunshots – this isn't an alarm. This is a diversion. There's no toxic gas, this is someone's way of clearing out the ship so they can hurt my friends.'

'Even if so, you shouldn't go –' The third gunshot brought with it another scream, this one distinctly recognisable. _Clarke._ 'Dammit. Do you at least have a gun?'

No, she didn't have a goddamn gun, she'd not needed to carry one for six freaking years. At her urgent headshake, Zeke slid his hands down to hers, threading their fingers together. In any other situation, she'd have to stop and think about that – but not now. Not this time. 'Come with me. On the way to the main corridor there's an inhabitation zone with weapons hidden. We'll get some from there.'

'Just get me a damn gun so we can save them.'

'Come.' Zeke tugged at her hands, and took off at a quick, but silent, run that she could keep up with. A minute later, as the next shot sounded, they were inside someone's living room.

She didn't have time to take in the décor, but the ease at which Zeke moved around the room clued her in to the fact it was probably his. Especially when he slid back a panel in the coffee table and withdrew two handguns.

'No spare bullets for these. What's in is what we've got.' He slid the panel shut again, and raised the gun so he could check how many shots he could get off. 'I got three.'

'Five.' Raven slid the barrel so a bullet entered the chamber. 'Get me to that corridor and we only need one.'

'Come.' His favourite word, apparently. Raven nodded, and together, they made their way to the main corridor as a sixth bullet sounded.

Almost immediately, the cry of ' _Gaia_!' followed, and Raven's heart lurched.

They reached the corner of the main corridor as yet another gunshot sounded, and then the merciful sound of an empty chamber. With the barest of glances at Zeke, Raven turned the corner, gun raised.

The prisoner stood there, looking down at the quickly blooming red spot in his chest. In front of him stood a blonde woman, eyes wide and fearful, barrel still pressed to his chest. 'Robert,' she whispered, as he started to shake. 'No, no no no! Robert!'

'Put the gun down.' Zeke rounded the corner behind Raven, training his gun on the woman straight away. 'Put it down and kick it away.'

'Robert …' She released her grip, and the gun landed on the floor. Raven flinched, praying that there truly were no more bullets and that the gun wasn't shock sensitive. To her immense relief, it landed flat and quiet – but pointed directly at Gaia, who lay hunched over something, immobile.

The amount of blood around her didn't look good.

Neither did Bellamy. Raven's gaze landed on him next, just to the side, cradled in Clarke's arms. His chest was crimson, eyes closed and skin pale.

Her throat closed up. Was he … no. He couldn't be.

No.

'Why, Charmaine?' Zeke took a careful step forward, hooking his foot over the gun at the woman's feet and kicking it backwards, far away from her reach as she stared at the prisoner. 'Why would you do this?'

'Robert …' The man wobbled, eyes turning glassy. 'I'm so sorry … I'm so so sorry.'

He collapsed, and she fell on him immediately, and as if the gates had opened, began to cry great big heaving sobs. 'You weren't supposed to die! You were supposed to escape!'

Zeke sighed, lowering his gun. 'Charmaine …'

Raven narrowed her eyes. Charmaine's hand was to the side, her fingers tightening – but not in grief. No, that looked suspiciously like …

She spun, the knife in hand, slashing at Zeke. Acting on instinct, Raven fired.

'Wha –' Charmaine reeled backwards, dropping the blade. Zeke took a step away, gun raised, one hand folded across his stomach defensively. 'No … but … this …'

'It's over, Charmaine.' Zeke's voice was measured. 'Robert's dead, and in less than a minute the hazard team will be here to clear the ship and they will be able to detain you until Rina's ready.' He shook his head at her. 'Why would you do this?'

Blood dripped from her arm, but Charmaine ignored it. Raven's stomach revolted, but she swallowed back the vomit she could feel climbing her throat as her gaze skipped back to her friends. Clarke was crying, holding Bellamy close with one hand pressed firmly against his stomach.

He needed help. _Now_.

And she had the radio to call for backup.


	97. (XCVII) Clarke

**Clarke**

It took nearly an hour for them to remove the bullet from her shoulder and bandage her up. Clarke had insisted on staying conscious for the procedure, not wanting to lose any time – not wanting anything bad to happen while she was unconscious, unable to respond or help …

Mya's instructions had been firm. Absolutely no moving it for at least a week, and then only minimal for four weeks until reassessment. The bump on the back of her head from where she'd hit the wall after Bellamy collapsed against her was cleared as being non-concussive. Some anaesthetic tea and she'd no longer feel it.

But the headache she felt didn't come from the bump on her head. It came from the tears she'd shed, and the anguish of uncertainty hovering in her mind.

Bellamy had been rushed straight into the operating rooms to have the bullets removed and his wounds repaired. It didn't look good – he'd lost a _lot_ of blood in the corridor, and if the bullet in his stomach had gone in at an angle …

The very thought made her want to tear up again, but she had no more tears to cry. Not after Indra had come to help. Not when she had seen Gaia.

There was no fixing Gaia. Not once the bullet had gone through her skull. Indra's wails had been so uncharacteristic, so full of grief, that Clarke had to close herself off. Numb herself to it.

But Gaia's death had saved Octavia's life. She remained uninjured.

Khalil had brought her to the medical bay, no longer worried about infection – she was past the infectious stage, and with the injuries sustained in the corridor and those sustained in the rush to get outside, there were no doctors to spare to monitor her in another ward.

Kane sat with her now, worry creasing his brow as he watched the closed operating room Bellamy had been taken to. Raven sat on the other side, wrapped in a blanket. Her usually bright expression was gone. Abby had taken one look at her and diagnosed her with shock, ordering her to sit with the blanket and a warm drink. It was the best they could do while dealing with the gunshot wounds.

Clarke tried not to shudder where she sat on one of the beds, her own blanket wrapped gingerly around herself. Mya had tried to wrap it in such a way her shoulder was still open, but the chills had persisted so Kane had helped her adjust it. Now it just kept her shoulder a dull burn.

It was only after an hour passed that Clarke realised one very important person wasn't in the room. With panic, she turned to Kane, nearly yelling out the words. 'Where's Madi? The supply group should be back by now.'

Kane started, dropping Octavia's hand as he looked over at Clarke. 'With Arida. She wanted to come in, but we didn't think it best for her –'

'Oh thank God.' Clarke slumped back against her bed, trying – and failing – not to begin shaking again. 'I got worried … she's been through so much …'

'Hey, it's okay.' With a glance at Raven, who had moved closer to Zeke, Kane moved from Octavia's bed to Clarke's. 'She's safe. Her safety is our top priority. As soon as the supply run got back, Harper and Monty kept her outside and with Arida. There wasn't a moment she was left unprotected from whatever was happening.'

Her eyes stung again, tears she needed to shed still absent. 'Kane, is he … what if … I can't lose him.'

'Sshh.' Kane reached over, resting his hand above hers. 'Bellamy is a fighter. He'll pull through this.'

'He dropped Octavia to protect me. It's my fault he's injured right now.' Clarke balled her good hand up, dropping her gaze to the rough blanket over her legs. 'If he'd stayed where he was … if he'd kept hold of Octavia …'

'Then it's likely you'd all be dead.'

'It got Gaia killed.'

'Gaia died doing what she thought was right. Protecting her Commander.' Kane's voice broke a little, throat blocked with emotion. He'd been second to see the gory scene in the corridor, right after Rina. Clarke had seen the difficulty he had had blocking off his emotions as he took it all in. The fear, the fury, the despair – things she knew he wouldn't let himself feel while there was work to do. 'She didn't die because of you, Clarke. She died because she was a Flamekeeper, and her duty was to protect her Commander.'

Clarke sniffed, pulling her knees up to her chest. The stitches in her shoulder protested the movement. 'I should have –'

'Stop.' Kane squeezed her hand, and she smashed her lips shut, swallowing back the emotions in her throat. 'Stop. There is _nothing_ you could have done differently. We didn't know about Charmaine. We didn't know she'd cause mass panic to empty the ship so she could free Robert. We didn't know she'd take the same corridor you would because Octavia was alone. We didn't know she had a gun. There is no way any of this could have played out differently.'

'If I'd had the idea earlier …'

Kane shook his head. 'Charmaine wasn't as tough to break as Robert. Rina got everything out of her before we even left the corridor. She was in the control room. She could hear everything we said through the camera's audio.' He gave her a soft smile. 'Whenever you said about the caves, she'd have panicked and tripped the alarm to get Robert out. The only way you could have avoided it was not say anything – but then we wouldn't have her.'

He was being so kind. Clarke swallowed, lifting her face so she could meet his eyes. They were soft, and warm, and full of empathy.

Full of love.

She had no tears left to cry, it was true, but you didn't have to have tears to cry. The great, heaving sobs proved that. By the second sob, Kane had pulled her forward carefully until he could wrap his arm around her and tuck her into his chest.

Warmth she hadn't felt since her father had hugged her that last time encased her, and that only made her sob harder. His hands rubbed soothing patterns against her arm and back, and he whispered soft words to her to help her calm down.

Another set of arms wrapped around her other side, and Raven's familiar, slightly metallic, smell met her, dark hair tickling her back where Raven pressed her cheek just below Clarke's neck.

Wrapped in love, she left out as much of the fear as she could in those sobs, until finally Mya took pity on her with a small prick to the thigh. Sleep came easily after that.


	98. (XCVIII) Kane

**Kane**

Thirteen hours of surgery later, Abby and Khalil wheeled one of the beds from the surgery room, faces drawn and exhausted. Blood covered their clothes and arms, and Kane was sure there was some in Abby's hair.

He stood immediately, catching sight of Bellamy's rumpled curls on the bed. Abby gave him a brief nod as they pulled the bed into place on the other side of the room.

Bellamy was still alive. Thank God.

Once they'd got him set up with fluids and the respirator, Abby crossed the room to join him at Clarke's bedside. Without a word, he opened his arms up, and she stepped into them, pressing her cheek to his chest.

He held onto her tightly as she looked down at her sleeping daughter. 'All I ever wanted was to keep her away from all this,' she whispered after several moments. 'She was never supposed to see so much violence. Never supposed to be involved in it.'

Kane pressed a kiss to her hair, stroking her back with careful passes. He didn't have a response for her. They'd discussed this many times and there were no more responses.

Instead, he pulled Abby into the seat Louise had dragged out from one of the offices – big, cushioned and comfortable. Raven was folded up in a matching one between Clarke and Octavia's beds, head cushioned on folded arms as she slept.

'One of the bullets nicked a kidney. There was a lot of internal bleeding, but one of the surgeons managed to stitch up the cut.' Abby's voice was detached, and Kane recognised it as her falling into the zone where she cut herself off from feelings to deal with her patients. He'd grown very familiar with it in all the years they'd known each other. 'There's still a chance of infection or further kidney complications but they have the equipment to encourage the kidney to repair itself.'

'So Bellamy will be okay?'

'If he makes it through the night.' Abby burrowed her head into Kane's shoulder. 'The other bullet caught on a brachial artery. He'll have weak muscles for a long time from the incisions we had to make to get it out.' She shuddered, and Kane grabbed at one of the spare blankets someone had left beside Clarke's bed during the brief period he'd managed to sleep. Wrapping it around Abby's shoulders, he shifted her until she was more relaxed in his arms.

'He lost so much blood, Marcus.' Abby's voice turned meek, and when he glanced down, she'd buried her face against his chest. 'We must have given him at least six pints throughout the surgery. And if we missed even a single stitch …'

'You haven't.'

'You can't know that.'

'I can.'

She swatted ineffectively at his arm. 'You can't. You weren't in there. There was so much blood when we opened him up …'

'Hey. If you could save Jaha all those years ago after we sent the kids down, you can save Bellamy.' Kane let one big hand rest on the side of her head before she could pull back to look at him. 'I remember you using far more than the permitted amount to save him. If you could do that, just you and Jackson, then you and Jackson and a team of trained surgeons could do so much better this time.'

'You always were the best at making people feel better about themselves.' Abby pressed a soft kiss to his neck, and Kane smiled. 'I should probably go clean up. I'm covered in blood still.'

'Okay.' Kane released his hold, and when Abby was stood again, shifted himself further into the seat. He watched as she bent over her daughter, smoothing a hand down her pale cheek. 'She's going to be fine, Abby. Once the shock wears off, she'll be okay.'

Abby sighed. 'I know. But she's my daughter. It's what I do.' She threw him a quick glance, and he nodded his head. 'I'll … I'll be back soon.'

As luck would have it, within minutes of Abby stepping out of the room, Clarke began to wake up again. It started with just a few vocalisations, some of discomfort, and then gentle movements – turning to her side (thankfully, the good one) and then onto her back again.

By the time she managed to blink her eyes open, Kane was stood ready with a glass of water and a fresh syringe of pain relief. Only when she lay back in defeat did he give her the next dose, before helping her sit up in the bed against a pile of pillows.

'Bellamy?'

'Out of surgery.' Kane tilted his head towards him, and Clarke's head swung in that direction. 'He's alive, Clarke.'

Her eyes fluttered closed again, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. 'Octavia?'

'Back under anaesthesia. She didn't wake up at any stage.' He handed her the glass of water, and she reached for it, her brace clinking against the glass. 'Can I get you anything else?'

Clarke shook her head. 'Just so tired.' She took a small sip of the water, before leaning her head back against the pillows. 'How's Indra?'

He sighed, sinking back into his seat. 'I haven't seen her since she took Gaia away.' The memory of Indra's face as she gathered her daughter's body in her arms would haunt him for years. 'Everyone's been kept out of med bay, so I have few updates.'

'Are we on lockdown?'

'Not completely.' Kane ran a hand through his hair, simultaneously rolling his shoulders to remove the stress. 'Rina's confident that Charmaine acted alone out of feelings for Robert, but she's pulled all high ranking guards into interrogations to be sure. Considering that those who saw her in the corridors are all in med bay – except for Indra – she wasn't taking any chances. Nobody can come in, and there are strict rules on who can leave and when.'

Clarke's eyes slid shut, and she seemed to sink into the pillows. 'Mom?'

'Cleaning up after the surgery. She'll be back in a few.' He reached for her hand, ignoring her brace. It was just becoming a part of her, now. Something else that made Clarke uniquely Clarke. 'You should sleep. It will help with the healing.'

'No.' Clarke shook her head, eyes fluttering open again. 'I don't want to sleep. I need … I need to see Madi. And Rina.' She pulled her hand away, and Kane frowned when she began trying to push herself up. When it became clear she wasn't going to lie back down, he sighed, reaching for the pillows to help support her.

'Madi's safe in one of the living quarters. Echo's stationed herself as guard. Until we're sure that nobody else is involved, she's not leaving there.' He shifted on the chair, eyes darting to the doors as someone passed by outside. 'Rina's heading the interrogations. Until they're finished, she's unavailable.'

'When she's free, I need to see her.'

He nodded. 'I can set that up. But until she's free, you should sleep.'

Her eyes shut again, and she failed to respond. Kane waited, silent; when Abby returned a little over ten minutes later, now free of blood, Clarke had slipped back into slumber.


	99. (XCIX) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

Fever dreams.

Bellamy recognised them for what they were even in his semi-conscious state. When the blackness receded far enough for him to begin to fight his way to awareness, they started with memories. The racing heart, running down the corridor, his sister in his arms, only to turn the corner and come face to face with the barrel of a gun.

He remembered the pain biting through him as the shots hit – but the fever dreams twisted it, turned his memory into his worst fears. Turned the shots from him to Clarke and to Octavia, killing them but sparing him. Making him watch their deaths, over and over, different entry wounds, different speeds.

When there were no more fears from that event left to play with, his mind took him back further. Back to space. The asteroid hits – tearing a hole in the Ring and sucking his friends into the vacuum of space, unprotected. Raven, Echo, Emori, Harper, Monty, Murphy – all floating past him, staring through the window, faces swollen and purple.

Then it was Emori, on that table they'd done their ramshackle operation, bleeding out with no way for them to stop. The baby that had barely developed, suddenly full term, in his hands, gasping for breath with lungs damaged from a dangerous emergency delivery.

Then Praimfaya. Dreams he'd long since tried to forget – dreams he hadn't had since he arrived back on Earth – flashing across his closed lids. Clarke, trapped outside the lab, skin blistering and bubbling and melting away until she was nothing more than dust on the fiery winds. Octavia, trapped beneath the rubble of Polis, suffocating with blocked turbines and lungs filled with blood.

Each time a dream ended, he felt closer to the surface, like he was just one stretch from waking. He could hear his friends, feel pressure against his skin – and then another dream would suck him back under.

He had no way to track the time. No idea how long it had been since he shoved Clarke behind him in that corridor. Was she okay? Was Octavia? Gaia?

Another dream took him before he could try to climb out and force an answer from a friend.

This one was … worse, in a way. This was a mix of all of the dreams. It started with his mother – watching her get sucked through the airlock. Watching Octavia get pulled away from him, shoved into the prison cell she called home for a year.

The dream broke away from his memory there. He dreamt of the dropship, watching Octavia get loaded – but instead of landing safe in the valley they'd called home, they landed in a blazing inferno that killed them. Watched everyone – even those he'd long forgotten, Jasper, Atom, Finn – burn in the flames of Praimfaya. Leaving only himself and Clarke standing.

She had a gun in her hand, pointing at his chest, eyes filled with tears. He'd seen that look once before, in the Bunker before Praimfaya. The uncertainty that she was doing the right thing, the fear that not acting would mean certain death.

Her hand shook, and then the gun was under her chin, head tilted back. Her finger tightened on the trigger before he could act.

That time, when the dream ended, he woke with a cry, with fire burning in his stomach, matched by cool hands on his shoulders and his forehead. Someone shone a light into his eyes, making him flinch even as the hand on his forehead kept him in place.

He'd recognised that hand anywhere. The thin poles against each finger, supporting them where necessary. _Clarke_. She was okay. Alive. _Thank God._

Blinking furiously, he worked to clear his vision as a dark spot appeared. It took a few moments for him to realise it wasn't a dark spot – it was Khalil, leaning over him, holding the flashlight that checked his eyes. His mouth was moving, but there were no words. Just noise as his brain struggled to switch on.

A white halo appeared above him, and his eyes caught on it immediately. Clarke, leaning forward, smile playing on her lips and tears streaming down her cheeks. He wanted to reach out, stroke the tears away, but he couldn't find the strength to even twitch his fingers.

Khalil let go of his face, dropping the flashlight away from his eyes. With relief, Bellamy let them slide shut.

There were no fever dreams that time.

His next awakening was to a darkened room. Night, maybe? He had a little more energy, enough to be able to turn his head to the side – to see that Clarke was hunched over in a chair beside him, Raven carefully folding a blanket over her sleeping form.

With throat that felt like the desert, Bellamy _tried_ to croak out Raven's name. Though it resembled nothing he was familiar with, the woman recognised it as a call out to her, and turned around to him.

'Hey,' she murmured, leaving Clarke's side to come to his. 'Glad to see you up.' She lay her hand over his, perching herself on the edge of his mattress. 'How you feeling?'

He cleared his throat, wincing at the pain. She paused, and then realised what it was he was after. He had a straw in his mouth, carefully sipping from a glass of cool water, seconds later. The relief was instant. 'So, we're all in agreement. You're an idiot.'

He scowled at her. 'You shouldn't have jumped in front of those damn bullets. You nearly _died_ , Bellamy. You were damn lucky that the bullets hit where they did, and not even a fraction of an inch to the side.'

He didn't feel too lucky. Now he was awake, he could properly feel the ache and the burning in his stomach and his shoulder. If he was lucky, he'd have not turned that particular corner and met with the gun.

But then again … Clarke was okay.

'Oct-' he coughed out, but the name stuck in his sore throat. Raven lifted the cup again, letting him take more sips.

'She's okay. She's still under, and she didn't get hit by any bullets. Gaia guarded her.'

There was something, a little catch in Raven's voice. Her eyes darted away, and Bellamy turned his head a little bit further into the pillow. He didn't need to ask – Raven could clearly tell what his question was. 'Gaia didn't make it.'

Shit. Bellamy let out a breath, eyes closing in grief. When he opened them again, he looked over at Clarke. 'She took a bullet to the shoulder. Mya patched her up. She'll be okay, but she's barely been sleeping. This is the first time in about two days I've actually seen her out for more than five minutes.'

He could see the strain that the last – how long had it been? Days? Weeks? However long, it had taken its toll on her. He could see the dark bags beneath her eyes, the strain lines around her mouth. The way her hand clenched on the arm of the chair, peeking out from under the blanket.

If he could have pushed himself off the bed, he would have. He wanted to go to her, cross the few steps to the chair, but his body was too weak.

Raven took pity on him. 'Do you want me to wake her? Seeing you awake might give her some relief. She's been really worried about you. Won't leave your side except to see Madi.'

His heart clenched, and against his better judgement, he nodded. Raven slid from the bed, and laid a hand gently on Clarke's shoulder.

She started awake quickly, and after a quick look at Raven, her eyes shot to Bellamy. He smiled at her, and her eyes filled with tears.

'Thank _God_.' She was on her feet and all but crawling onto the bed with him in seconds. She lay one of her hands against his cheek, the other against the shoulder that wasn't on fire. 'I thought I lost you. I really thought you were gone.'

'Told … you.' Speaking was more effort than he expected, but Bellamy cleared his throat, looking up at the beauty hovering over him. 'Not leaving you.'

'I'm not letting you.' Clarke pressed her forehead against his, and fighting the lethargy seeping back into his muscles, Bellamy raised his left hand to rest it against her back. 'I told you, I can't lose anyone else, so you're not going anywhere. You're staying with me, Bellamy.'

The words sent a good warmth flowing through him, even as her tears landed on his face. Before he could formulate a response, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. 'You mean too much to me. If I lost you …'

'You didn't.' He stroked his hand against her back weakly, trying to ignore the tiredness welling up within him. 'You won't.'

Her fingers were gentle against his cheek. 'I know.' She pulled back, and he looked up at her face, the smile so bright on her lips. For a long moment, she just hung there, looking down at him, her unkempt waves forming a barrier around her face. And then the moment ended, and she lowered herself again until their lips met in a soft kiss filled with emotions both felt but neither would truly name.

And it felt so, so right.


	100. (C) Raven

**Raven**

Zeke's room was pretty bare. Raven had been right – the room they'd taken the guns from had been his, but it didn't look like he'd done much decorating. Zeke had explained during the night in med bay after the attack, that he had been put into cryosleep for the journey, only to be woken when an engineering problem that he needed to fix came to light. His room had been prepared for him – but he hadn't been needed until the prisoner rebellion that had destroyed seven of their dropships and damaged the internal doors.

The year or so between that incident and the arrival on Earth, he'd been too busy checking all of the old systems were still running as they were meant to and fixing those he could, and hadn't had time for decorating a room he pretty much only collapsed in at the end of a day.

She couldn't fault him for that. She'd kind of been the same in her room on the Ark, after all (not that there was much chance for decoration). She'd either gone to Finn's room for some stress relief, or collapsed onto her bed after a day of hitting the books and proving her skills as a mechanic.

Still. Staring at a beige wall for four hours in the middle of the night, with no toys to tinker with, no books to read – and no man to hold her close, as he had been while they came to terms with everything that had happened – wasn't really much fun.

Which might have explained why within minutes of him walking through the door after a meeting that ran late into the evening, she had him in the bed with her, his warmth giving her the security she craved, and a connection she hadn't felt in years.

Afterwards, laying facing each other in his slightly cramped bed, Raven folded her arm under her head. He smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

'What's wrong?' she asked quietly, hating to break the stillness of the night and the brilliant afterglow that surrounded them.

'Rina made a decision about Charmaine.' Zeke sighed, rolling onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. 'She wants to turn her over to your – is it Indra? The war chief?'

'Yeah.' Raven propped herself up. 'What's so bad about that?'

'Indra's words are bugging me. I can't understand them … but they make me chill.' He closed his eyes, pushing his head back into the pillows until his neck stretched upwards. 'Something like … juices drain, juice down?'

His pronunciation was so, so close. Raven suppressed a smirk. ' _Jus drein, jus daun_. It's the Grounder speak. The language they developed after the bombs.' She let one hand snake out to rest on his chest, fingers tangling gently in the downy hair she found there. 'Blood must have blood. It's their version of an eye for an eye.'

'I don't like it.' Zeke's hand came up to cover hers, holding tightly. 'It sounds too ominous. Like she wants something bigger than just having Charmaine.' He frowned, turning his head to face her. 'What will she do? What is the Grounder way of exacting punishment?'

Now that, Raven remembered all too well. She still bore some of the scars – mentally, physically and emotionally. 'To death?' she confirmed, and Zeke nodded. 'It will be a barbaric method, but one they refuse to break from. Death by a thousand cuts.' She shuddered, and Zeke's frown deepened. 'They tie their prisoners to a stake. And then the tribesmen of the one they seek vengeance for each cut the prisoner. When all is done, the commander ends their life with her sword – if they haven't died of blood loss already.'

Zeke flinched. 'That's …'

'That's their tradition. I don't like it any more than you do.' She shuffled herself closer to him, relaxing her arm so she lay back on the mattress, head nestled on his shoulder. 'I've been on the receiving end of it – a mistaken accusation resolved before it got too far,' she hastened to add when he tensed up. 'They used it on the true culprit. And then, they planned to use it on my ex.' Bitter anger welled up inside her, a fury she hadn't felt in years – a fury she thought she was over. 'Clarke gave him a merciful death before they could torture him.'

His arm wrapped around her exposed shoulders. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, and she pressed herself closer to him. 'Charmaine … she was good, once. I knew her, before the mission. She was a member of my dad's unit in the military. A close family friend.' His voice turned sad with recollection, and Raven closed her eyes against it. Her fingers began to trace patterns across his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, but didn't stop her. 'Brilliant strategist, but one of their missions in a war torn country went wrong. There was a variable they didn't account for … most of their unit died. Charmaine, my dad, and his brother were the only survivors. All came back injured - dad lost his leg, my uncle was paralysed from the waist down, and Charmaine had permanent nerve damage in her right arm. She never was the same after that.'

'Is that how she let Robert get into her head?'

'She wouldn't say, exactly. She said that he reminded her of someone she lost a long time ago, but not who. That once he was woken up for his part of the mission, they formed a bond. She was the overseer of his group, had nearly unlimited access to him and his records.' Zeke released her hand, lifting his to rub at his eyes in weariness. Raven tangled her good leg over his, offering him wordless comfort. 'After some time, she thought they were in love – she loved him, but he just led her on. He was incapable of love. So, when she heard him discussing the plan to escape with the others, she thought that she'd help. Maybe by doing that, she could finally be with him without worrying about anybody realising.'

'She told you all of this?'

'Most. Some of it, Liam pieced together from what he got out of Elana before she died.' Zeke dropped his hand again, and twisted slightly until he could properly face her once more. 'Can we … can we maybe not talk about this right now?'

'Of course,' Raven agreed easily, pulling back so she could see his face fully. 'Anything you want.'

They didn't really talk for the rest of the night after that, and nor did they really sleep, too fascinated by each other and the newness of … _this_ , whatever this was. She wasn't really one for labels, anyway.

When the morning came, and Zeke finally slept, Raven slipped from his warm bed with some regret. The early spring air filtering through the ship was chilled her exposed skin until she shoved his jacket over her arms.

They really needed to get their heating systems running. Maybe she could lend her help with that? She'd have to remember to suggest it to someone.

The thought made her pause. Was she ... was she considering sticking around? Slightly unsettled that she felt comfortable enough to entertain the thought, she continued on.

The canteen was surprisingly quiet, even with the early hour. Usually, there was a bustle at all hours, overnight maintenance coming in from five am as they were relieved by the morning group. Today, however, only a skeleton crew took up space on one table. Three people, much less than the usual twenty who kept the shipping running.

There had been no more imprisonments. Rina's interrogations had finished three days before, and she deemed Charmaine to have been the last remaining member of the rebellion. But the morale of the Gagarin was damaged. She'd seen it occurring everywhere as she occupied herself – doubt between friends, families, relationships broken. Suspicion abounded despite Rina's declaration.

She couldn't help but feel guilty, in a sense, before the rational part of her mind reminded her that if she hadn't been there, her friends would all be dead and it was highly likely nobody would ever have known Charmaine's involvement.

With that thought joining her unease and cycling through her mind, Raven found her way to the buffet table, laden with foods she'd come to love – eggs, bacon, beans, pastries. Things the Ark had never been able to provide, and she'd had little chance to try while on the ground.

Once her plate was filled enough to keep her going for a few hours, she took a seat at the table nearest the door. By the time she'd demolished the pile of eggs, Clarke had joined her, blinking sleep from her eyes.

'Mornin',' Raven greeted her around a mouth of bacon as Clarke lowered her own plate – noticeably emptier than hers had been – to the table. 'The lure of food proving too much for you today?'

A non-committal noise was all the response she got from her friend, lifting the cup of weirdly addictive drink to her lips. Seriously, why had they never had coffee on the Ark? Why had Farm Station not found a way to grow coffee beans? They'd have been everybody's favourites, able to trade for any favours they liked.

She'd have to bug Monty about that, next time she saw him. If they could grow hallucinogenic plants, they surely could have grown coffee.

Once she was sure Clarke had downed enough to start perking up, she nudged her friend's leg. 'So. I haven't seen you since I bailed the day Bellamy woke up. I think you might have something to share?'

The blush on Clarke's cheeks was worth it.


	101. (CI) Bellamy

**Bellamy**

Octavia's awakening didn't go as smoothly as Bellamy had hoped.

Three weeks after Charmaine's attack, Mya and Abby came to the agreement that Octavia no longer needed to be sedated, and that if she chose to leave (which was highly likely) it wouldn't cause any damage and was unlikely to cause a relapse.

It took nearly a week for the anaesthesia to wear off and for Octavia to stay awake longer than a minute. Clarke had given the wise suggestion of taking her outside before she became fully aware, to put off the inevitable burst of fury for those precious few minutes.

Liam had arranged for a tent to be erected a little way away from the ship, where she was less likely to pick up on any day-to-day noises. They kept away the Gagarin people, too. Once she was settled, Mya and Khalil excused themselves, leaving Bellamy, Clarke and Abby in the tent, waiting for her.

It took just under two hours from moving her to her waking, something Bellamy noticed first, as clued in to his sister as he was. His wounds protesting at his sudden movements, he lurched forward from his chair as Octavia raised her head, blinking blearily around her in confusion.

'Hey, sis,' he whispered, coming to stop beside her, the backs of his eyes burning with suppressed emotions. 'How you feeling?'

'Like someone shocklashed me.' She winced, pulling her arms closer to her sides so she could push herself up. 'What happened?'

'Your lungs.' Bellamy wrapped one arm around his sister's shoulders as Abby moved to fluff up the pillows behind her. 'The TB hit you again. You didn't give yourself enough time to recover.'

She scoffed. 'I felt fine before I left Arkadia.' She pushed his arm away as soon as she felt the pillows behind her. 'What happened to the fight? Did we win?'

Bellamy paused, mind racing to find an answer. What could he say to her?

Clarke took the chance to answer away from him, stepping up to Octavia's feet. 'We came out successfully, yes.' Her tone was measured, even, giving nothing away as Abby reached for the med kit at the side to check Octavia's vitals. 'We couldn't take you far until your body healed some, though. You're near the ship. Indra has taken a group of a hundred back to Polis, to set up a settlement and to begin restoring the tower as much as they can.'

Bellamy shot her a grateful look, to which she just gave him a soft smile. 'How many casualties?'

'Casualties?' Bellamy frowned down at Octavia, whose eyes had narrowed as if in suspicion.

'How many dead, how many injured, on our side?' she clarified, and he could see the tightening of muscles in her cheeks that he was far too familiar with.

'Minimal.' He sat back as Abby moved forward, flashlight in hand, to check Octavia's pupils. 'Don't concern yourself with that right now. You just need to keep improving.'

' _Bellamy_.' She waved Abby away, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Three voices protested her move, but her glare was enough to silence two of them. Bellamy had seen it enough as she grew up to know to ignore her.

He moved to stand in front of the tent opening, currently down, blocking her view. 'What are you keeping from me?'

She took a step forward, and her legs started to shake. Abby was there behind her, offering her support until Octavia again batted her away. 'Bellamy. What happened to our fight?'

She stepped closer, reaching out to push him aside. Her hand landed on the entry wound on his stomach, and he hissed as she put pressure on it. Her lips got tighter.

'Octavia, you should really get back in bed until your muscles strengthen again,' Clarke said as she hurried over to his side. 'Once you're a bit more stable, we can discuss properly.'

'What happened to you?' Octavia's hands slid down to grasp at the bottom of his shirt. Before anyone could stop her, she'd yanked it high enough to expose the red, puckered skin – the obvious bullet wound, and the slashes to the side where they'd had to pull him open that bit further to patch him up (a fabulous image that he couldn't really forget about). 'Holy shit, Bell – did you get _shot_?'

He reached forward, grabbed her wrist with one hand and the bottom of his shirt with the other, tugging it back into place. 'It's nothing. Indra took care of the person responsible.' He turned his head away, unable to meet her probing gaze. 'You should –'

'In the midst of a fight, Indra had time to _take care of_ one individual?'

Crap. Why did he say that? 'It was – it happened later.'

'Bell.'

'Look, just get back into bed, Octavia.' He gave her a gentle push back towards Abby, but he should have known his sister better than that. Really, what did he expect her to do? Listen to him? God forbid.

'Get out of my way, Bellamy.' For someone who'd been unconscious for two months, she had an amazing amount of strength, managing to push him just far enough to the side on her second attempt (with help from the fact she targeted his wound again) and slip through the tent flap.

The Gagarin was, predictably, busy, workers climbing to patch damaged panels, others dismantling the engines now Rina had decided to settle here so they could use the materials for other purposes. It was obvious to anyone that this was two peoples, coming together to work in harmony as Raven practically danced her way between various sections of panelling laid out on the ground, Harper watching her with amusement as she ate with two of the Gagarin guards.

Octavia took it in with wide, disbelieving eyes as Bellamy rubbed at his forehead. A headache was already brewing, and she hadn't even said a word about what she saw.

'I can explain –'

'Save it.' Octavia spun on him, face filled with fury. She practically spat out the words. 'You defied my orders. The prisoners are supposed to be _dead_. You lied to me.'

'We had to save your life!'

'By putting everybody else in danger?'

'The Gagarin aren't a threat to us, Octavia.' Clarke stepped around him, resting her hand briefly on his back in a show of support. 'When you collapsed, we made a deal. They'd save your life in exchange for us showing them where was safe on the ground. When something else happened, they released us from that deal – but promised they would never engage in a battle with us. They're in debt to us.'

Octavia shook her head. 'They shouldn't be in debt to us. They should be _dead_.'

'We're not killing innocents.'

'They're not innocent!'

'Yes, they are!' Clarke took a step forward, stopped only as Bellamy wrapped his hand around her wrist to keep her back. She threw a look over her shoulder at him, to which he just raised his brows. 'The ship contained prisoners, yes. But most of them are dead. Keller and his friends staged a rebellion that killed a lot of the crew and passengers. Those that remain have been vetted and have done nothing but help us – gave us shelter, food, medicine. We should owe them, but one last rebel attacked us. In retribution, they gave us our freedom and security.'

'We're here because we want to be, Octavia.' Bellamy tugged Clarke's wrist, pulling her backwards until he could get in front of her. 'We're not in danger here.'

'I. Don't. Care.' Her words were filled with venom, and she took a few steps further back. 'You say Indra's in Polis?' At his nod, she exhaled. 'I'm going to _my_ people. I'm going to regroup them. And then we will have revenge for those they killed.'

He sighed, shaking his head. 'How are you going to get there, O? Polis is several hours walk away – you're not up to that.'

'Again, I don't care.'

'O –'

'Forget it, Bellamy. I'm done.' Octavia dropped her gaze to where Bellamy's hand had slid down to gently hold Clarke's. 'Let me know when she gets you killed like she has everyone else who thought the sun shone out of her ass.'

He had no response to that, and neither did Clarke. Swallowing hard, Bellamy watched as Octavia spun, wobbling slightly on her shaky limbs. It wasn't until she'd disappeared around the side of the ship he let himself start breathing properly again. Clarke's gentle voice behind him brought him back into the moment.

'Did that -?'

'Yeah.' Clarke's free hand came up to rest on his upper arm as her fingers tightened around his. 'Are you okay?'

He shook his head. 'I don't – I don't know.' He stared at the spot she'd disappeared, worry filling him. 'She's never going to make it walking to Polis.'

'I know.' Clarke tugged lightly on his muscles, until he turned to face her. 'I just sent Endin and Echo to trail her, make sure she gets there. They were watching us, ready to step in if needed.' She lifted her hand from his arm to rest it against his cheek. 'She'll be okay.'

'She's never going to forgive me. Not this time.'

'Give her time. Give her space. She'll realise that, like always, everything you did was for her.' Her fingers were cool, stroking against his cheek, and he turned his head into them slightly. He was amazongly grateful for her calm, closing his eyes as he fought back emotions.

Octavia was grown. She'd survived so much.

He could give her time.

Later, after Endin's call that Octavia had settled in the halfway point for the night, he sat in the room Louise had allocated him, watching as Clarke chewed her lower lip in thought after she'd changed his dressings.

'What?' he asked, softly, and she sighed.

'Now Rina's let me out of our deal ... there's another green space Madi and I found. A few hours drive from here.' She took a few steps forward, coming to a stop just in front of his chair, but far enough away he couldn't reach out and touch her. 'It's peaceful. Secluded. Protected. Stocked up with non-perishables and blankets and the like.'

He narrowed his eyes at her. 'Are you suggesting you want to go there?'

That gorgeous smile of hers made him swallow hard when it appeared. 'Yes. A while away from all the shit and the chaos we've found ourselves in. Somewhere we can just relax.'

 _We_? Oh hell yes.

'Besides, aren't you fed up of living in a grounded spaceship?'

* * *

 **And ... there you have chapter 101. The final chapter of In the Light, We Survive.**

 **There is of course an epilogue I have written, showing where a load of the characters go from here and how it works out for them - it's 3.5k words and will be uploaded on Wednesday Feb 14th, Valentine's Day (rather fitting for some characters), officially closing out my little universe.**

 **I hope you've enjoyed this crazy ride with me, and I'll see you Wednesday for the very last part of this.**


	102. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

'Hey, hey, you're almost there. One more push and we should have the baby's head.' Clarke smiled up at Harper from where she knelt between the other woman's spread legs, a position she'd been in on and off for the past eight hours.

At Harper's head, Madi carefully stroked back the damp strands clinging to her skin. The labour had been long and tricky so far, but it was so, so close. Ella, the closest thing to midwife they had, had been in and out to check on them, clearing Harper as safe to continue a natural delivery without returning to the ship's med bay (not that they could, with no vehicle and bad weather).

The woman was flagging, though, and Clarke was sure part of that was the fact Monty wasn't back yet. The trade run had left three days ago, before Harper realised the pains she felt were the start of her slow labour, and now, nobody could get through to them on the radio. Honestly, they should have thought about completing the trade run before the snow set in the day before. It wasn't as if the morning frost and bitter chill for the past two weeks weren't enough clues.

Raven, in the corner of the room, shook her head at Clarke, one hand over the headset she wore, listening for a response. Pushing down her own feelings of worry, Clarke turned back to Harper. 'You ready?'

Breath coming out in little pants, Harper nodded. Clarke gave her a gentle pat to the thigh, before moving herself back in position, making sure the towel over her right hand was still in place, keeping the brace covered.

In three, two, one, Harper's contraction hit, and the pushing began.

Clarke watched as the thatch of dark hair that she had been monitoring moved forward just far enough for her to get her hand underneath it; when Harper's muscles clamped down and then released, pushing hard, and she cried out, Clarke secured a gentle grip and helped guide the child into the world amidst a gush of fluid.

The small body in her arms wriggled, kicked out, and then as Clarke flipped them around to clear the airways, squawked. Within seconds, the crying had begun, and laughs of relief filled with the room. With more care than she remembered handling anything, Clarke turned the baby over again, until it was facing the ceiling.

'Well, Harper,' she said, voice filled with emotion as she leaned forward, placing the child on the towel Madi had laid out over Harper's chest, 'It looks like you have a daughter.' She arranged the child, watching as Harper's shaky, tired arms came up to hold her without second thought.

The sound of metal clicking in the corner caught Clarke's attention, and she glanced over as Raven stepped forward, headphones down against the rest of the radio rig. Her face was filled with wonderous delight as she came to stand beside their friend.

'Oh, wow,' she whispered, as Harper laughed, tears sliding down her face. Madi, now sponging down her forehead, snorted. 'My God, Harper, you did it.'

Clarke turned her attention back downwards, focusing on the messy delivery of the afterbirth, until finally, _finally_ , Harper was able to pull her newborn far enough up her body to tuck her little face into her neck.

'Hey, little one,' Harper was crooning as the baby's wails lessened, hands stroking her soft head. 'Hello. It's okay, you're okay.'

Clarke, happy with how the delivery had gone, pushed herself backwards until she was able to stand up again. Ella entered at the same time, bringing with her a tub of warm water and several more blankets and towels.

'I heard the crying,' she murmured to Clarke, placing the tub down at Harper's feet. 'The baby okay?'

Clarke nodded. 'Yeah. Airway clear, no obvious complications. It's a little girl.' She gestured to where Madi was now leaning forward, over Harper's shoulder, to coo at the child as she nuzzled into Harper's chest. 'Anyone know anything about the trade run?'

Ella shook her head as she lay the towels down besides the tub. 'No sign of them yet, but Murphy is watching out for them at the pass. He says it's impossible for the truck to get through it in this weather, but he'll get Monty to hike it back before the others.'

'Good.' Clarke raised her hand to clasp at the other woman's shoulder, and then paused when she caught sight of the mix of blood and other fluids still coating her. 'I need to wash up. So does the baby.' She glanced over at her friend, who looked up as if sensing the gaze. 'You ready to give her her first bath?'

By the time the baby was washed, dried, and secured in a baggy outfit that someone from the Gagarin had sent over in a previous trade run, night had fallen, and the solar lights lining the ceiling of the infirmary had turned on, casting an orange glow over everything inside.

Clarke hovered by the door as Raven prepared the radio rig to move out again. Madi had already dashed off to get herself dinner, after having left a bowl of the soup beside Harper's bed. The baby lay in the cot beside her, sleeping off her first feed, and Harper was peering over the edges.

It was adorable to watch, to see the devotion there before the baby was even two hours old. Clarke knew, in that moment, that Harper would do anything – even die – to protect the little girl. As would many of their community, she was sure as she caught a few notes of laughter and music from outside.

This baby was the first live birth in their little community in the nineteen months they had been set up, since they had broken off from the Gagarin ship. There had been two stillbirths, and seven miscarriages; so a live birth was a thing of joy for everyone to experience, though they knew better than to disturb the new mother and baby.

She was sure Harper was glad of that, though it meant she was almost alone in the delivery area of the infirmary, save for Clarke. She wasn't keen on the idea of leaving Harper entirely alone, but without Monty being back …

'You don't have to stay.' Harper glanced away from her daughter, looking across at her friend. 'We'll be fine. And I can still shout if I need you.' She shrugged. 'Though I'm sure someone will be by the door at all times so I don't need to shout loud, am I right?'

'You know us too well.' Clarke laughed, stepping forward so she could peer into the crib at the sleeping child. 'Get some sleep, Harper. I think after what you've been through today, you deserve it.' She stroked her hand around the edge of the crib. 'The moment I see Monty, I'll send him in.'

With Harper's blessing, Clarke left the infirmary, dimming the lights behind her so there was a chance for slumber. Once outside, in the cool winter breeze, she paused by the door for a moment to take stock of the people in front of her.

Ninety-one people gathered around the central firepit, laughing amongst each other, sharing food amongst them from the cooking hut. Two more hung back, watching from underneath the shelter of deck outside the old church they'd turned into an infirmary, nuzzled together. The man's hand rested lightly on the woman's stomach, bulging softly – hopefully, with the next live birth, in three months' time. Clarke gave them a smile as she stepped forward, climbing down the stairs and gesturing towards Miller, who happily took up a stance near the door, with Jackson following close behind him.

God, there'd been no separating those two. It was sweet, but in an almost sickly way. She'd never seen either of them so affectionate – but if they were happy …

Raven caught up to her as she approached the throng, wrapping an arm around her. 'Murphy just radioed,' she called over the noise of the others. 'The truck just got to the pass. Monty's racing back as fast as he can – should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so while the others unload the essentials.'

Clarke nodded, relief sweeping aside the tension she didn't even realise she'd been feeling. The last four of their hundred – well, hundred and one, now – people were accounted for, along with the two guests they were bringing back with them.

Having delivered her message, Raven sauntered away to Zeke, holding her bowl of soup high above her head to avoid Kina and Madi as they raced through the crowd, nearly barrelling into many people who just laughed and shook their heads. Clarke grinned at the teenagers, who shot her a mischievous look before disappearing on the other side of the fire.

Eden was thriving.

Clarke's plan had been purely to get away from the Gagarin for a few days – or maybe weeks – when she first suggested it to Bellamy, knowing that the valley was a suitable place to spend time. It was filled with green, and stocked with supplies that she and Madi had gathered over the years. If it hadn't been six hours drive from Polis, they'd have made a more permanent home of it during those six long years, but maybe that was for the best.

Now, it was filled with buildings, some of wood, some of polymers Zeke had created on the ship with the advanced tech, creating homes for the families that had chosen to break away from living in grounded spaceships. It had started with a few – Clarke and Bellamy, who had decided to turn it into a small community, followed by Madi, then Harper, during a period of separation from Monty; he soon followed, and they reconciled, and with him came Murphy and Emori, then Raven and Zeke and Arida with Kina.

Word had spread, and before they knew it, there was a mixed community of Grounders, Skaikru, and Gagarin, though none adhered to those definitions anymore.

They were just … Edeners.

People.

Clarke loved it. A community of equals, no class lines, no races or disputes over origins. Just people who respected one another, who worked together to help the community to thrive and to survive through even the harshest of weathers. A place she could finally call _home_ , something she hadn't known since the day her father was floated and she was arrested.

They'd even built her a cabin, the first one they'd done – a surprise from her friends. Set a little ways away from everyone else, backing against the woods and the mountain, it was a place just hers for when she needed it. A place to go when people got too much for her to deal with.

God, could she have a more perfect group of people around her?

Pushing back that emotion – today was a day of joy, and though it was a joyous memory, she didn't want to cry – Clarke joined in the celebration, happily partaking in the cups of Monty's moonshine being passed around, pointing the man himself to the infirmary when he finally arrived a little while later.

Maybe an hour after that, with Clarke on that delicate edge of being drunk enough to act loosely, but sober enough to know it (yet fast falling away), the others from the trade run arrived.

Abby entered the gathering first, finding her daughter almost immediately for an embrace of welcome. When Kane followed her, Clarke surprised him by turning to hug him, too. 'I'm so glad you're here!' she laughed, pulling away. 'Join in the celebration – we've got plenty of alcohol to go around!'

'Celebrating something good?' Abby's lips curved up in a smile as Clarke stumbled slightly, trying to step backwards.

'You know what we're celebrating. Murphy's mouth is too big for only Monty to know.' Clarke glanced over her mother's shoulder as the man in question stepped forward, pulling a trolley of supplies behind him. His mechanical hand was amazing, so lifelike and strong. Clarke was, once again, in awe. 'We have a little girl in Eden.'

The pair beamed, and Kane's hand landed on her shoulder. 'We heard that Harper had gone into labour, but not that the baby had arrived!'

Clarke nodded enthusiastically, and then stopped, wincing when it sent her vision swirling. 'About two hours ago. Harper hasn't said what her name is yet – I think she was waiting for Monty to get back. But everyone's celebrating it.' She gestured widely, narrowly avoiding Madi as the girl skidded to a stop beside her. 'When you go back, can you thank the seamstress for the baby clothes?'

'Of course.' Kane squeezed her shoulder, and then glanced at Abby. 'A few drinks in celebration won't hurt, will they?'

Abby laughed. 'I guess not,' she agreed.

When the pair had moved off, with promises to meet up with Clarke in the morning – when she was sober – she turned her attention back to the entrance to Eden, where Liam's younger brother, Luke (who had chosen to come to Eden with Ella, and they'd been inseparable ever since) was tugging in a cart filled with Zeke's bricks, ready to complete the newest batch of cabins they were building.

And then, behind him, was Bellamy, a sack of what was hopefully clothing and medicinal supplies slung over his back. Without a thought of decorum, or of her fast-approaching drunkness, Clarke sprang into action, racing through the crowd toward him.

Somehow, impossibly, he didn't let go of the sack even when she launched herself into his arms in welcome. Instead, he laughed, folding his arm around her waist and tucking his face into the crook of her neck. 'Well, hello.'

She pulled back just far enough to see his face, his eyes sparkling in amusement. 'Are you drunk, Clarke?'

'Nooooo.' Clarke shook her head, realising too late that her hair was loose and long enough to slap him in the face with each shake. 'Oh … oops?'

He rolled his eyes, releasing her waist so her feet were back firmly on the floor. 'You are, aren't you? Which means you broke open Monty's moonshine. Which means … Harper and the baby are okay?' His face was filled with sudden delight, the same mood that the rest of the community had infecting him as Clarke nodded furiously.

It only took her a few seconds after that to realise how bad an idea that was. Monty's moonshine was potent, and though she'd been fine a few minutes before … the vomit now splattered in the grass beside the gate suggested otherwise.

Bellamy laughed again, carefully lowering the sack to the floor, where it was quickly swept up by somebody else to be inventoried and put away. 'You're so drunk.' Big, warm hands swept her hair backwards, and with a few tugs, he had it back in the hairband he'd taken to wearing just in case she needed one.

If she thought really hard about it, that might have scared her.

'What a lovely welcome,' he teased when she spat out the taste of sick, wiping her hand over her mouth and straightening. 'I think you need to get to bed.'

'Mmm.' Clarke swayed slightly, her eyes sliding shut as he pulled her to his chest and then up into his arms. There was only the slightest adjustment into his chest needed as his weakened arm struggled to cope with her weight. 'S'eepy now.'

'Yeah, Monty's moonshine does that after the third glass.' His amusement was evident, even if she couldn't see his face. 'How much have you had?'

'Err … tree, fur, fif …' she trailed off, losing track. How many _had_ she had?

The vibrations against her ear told her Bellamy was laughing again. 'Go to sleep, Princess. You're going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.'

She couldn't exactly say he was wrong.

When she woke to the annoying chirping outside the window, it was to a throbbing head, sandy throat, bursting bladder, and empty bed. Taking care of her needs in order of priority – bladder, throat, head – she stumbled around her little cabin. Her bleary eyes could barely take in any of the details, the drawings that had been stuck up everywhere.

The only one she could focus on for any length of time was the most recent one she'd done of Bellamy, still in her sketchbook and open on her table. She'd drawn it the other morning, while he slept and she sat in the morning sunlight, watching as it played over his bare muscles.

He didn't seem to feel the cold, so she'd drawn that; the play of the light, the bunching of the muscles in his arms, the way his curls fell over his forehead where he was folded over his arm, not quite obscuring the raised scar that ran across the skin. The pure peace in his face, except for that one line that just would not go away, just above his brow.

She needed to get Octavia to talk to him, somehow, to relieve that last stressor that plagued him day and night.

But now … right now, she needed him herself. Blinking back tears at the brightness of the morning sun on the blanket of snow, she stepped out of her cabin, securing a warm sheet around her. The walk to the other cabins wasn't long – five minutes, maybe – but long enough for her to start shivering before she let herself through Bellamy's door.

He was still in bed, lying on his front, one arm hanging off the side of the bed. Kicking off her boots, Clarke moved forward, squinting to find the edge of the bedsheets as her vision wavered with her hangover. When she was successful, she slid into his bed, curling up against him. He was warm, and she sought that heat with frozen palms on his side.

He jolted at the action, cursed, and spun his head around to face her. 'Fuck, you're freezing!'

She groaned, tucking herself closer to his side. 'So warm me,' she whispered, and he hissed when she pressed her feet against his leg, closing her eyes.

With a moan, Bellamy shifted, turning over until he was on his side facing her. 'Why the hell … you know what, it's too early.' He stretched his arm out, grabbing at the blankets. 'You're hungover, so sleep,' he ordered, as he swept the blankets higher up the bed, covering her shoulders, and then wrapped his arm around her.

Snuggled against his chest, that's precisely what she did.

The next time she woke up, it was to Bellamy pressing gentle kisses to her cheek, face filled with warmth when he pulled away and saw her awake. 'Hey,' he murmured, and she smiled up at him. 'Feeling better? Warmer?'

She nodded, and he grinned, an expression she was becoming intimately familiar with – one that promised fun in the immediate future. 'Good.'

He took her lips before she could say another word, and she lost herself in his kiss, in the movement of his hands up and down her sides, underneath her shirt – well, _his_ shirt that he'd dressed her in the night before – until she was lying beneath him, both of them bare and panting, bodies entwined in the best way possible.

He moved lazily, almost, building her up slowly, pressing gentle kisses to her face. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, the other trailing down to rest over his heart, feeling its rapid beating. Proving to herself that this was real, that they were really there.

She did it every time they were together, and Bellamy just gave her a long, drawn-out kiss in response each time – another way to prove that this time, things were okay. That he was there, and he wasn't going anywhere.

She let her hand trail lower when he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together as his pace sped up just that little bit that made her breath catch. Her fingers trailed the ragged scar tissue that had so very nearly taken him away from her, and he flinched slightly, as he always did.

Perhaps it was the after-effect of her hangover. Maybe it was the fairytale view outside, with snow falling again. Or maybe it was the realisation that the hands she'd soaked in death and destruction for so long had finally started to clean, to bring life and to build a future.

Or maybe it was none of that. But there was something different about this time. Clarke could feel it as she met Bellamy's dark gaze. The intense emotion between them was there, the connection they absolutely could not deny – but there was something more.

It welled up before she could stop herself.

'I love you.'

Bellamy's rhythm faltered, then stopped as he jolted back in surprise, eyebrows raised. Clarke whined, shifting to try to get the friction that had just been taken away from her back, but he didn't give in. Instead, he smiled, leaned over her, resting his weight on his forearms, and pressed a fierce kiss against her lips.

When he pulled back, she had her hands laid against his cheeks, thumbs stroking over his many freckles, wiping away wetness she wasn't expecting. 'I've been waiting for you to say that,' he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to her nose. 'God, you have no idea how good it is to hear.'

He started moving again, that delicious drag sending shockwaves through her even as he captured her lips once more. After several long, beautiful seconds, he pulled away far enough to talk, his rhythm faster now, urgent, taking her so so close to the tipping point. 'In case I haven't made it obvious … I love you.'

For the first time, she wasn't scared of the future.

 **I can't believe it.**

 **It's over.**

 **Done.**

 **I started this in June after finishing Season 4 when it sparked my mind in a way nothing had for a very long time. 7 and a half months later, 239 pages in Word, 101 chapters and an epilogue, 115 thousand words ... and we're at the end.**

 **Thank you so so much, each and every one of you who has read this entire crazy thing, everyone who has reviewed, faved, followed - I might not respond to them often, but I see everything and each time the notification pops up in my inbox I get that little shot of happiness that has kept me going even through the tough times. You all are amazing and I love each and every one of you for all the support**!

 **I hope to see you around as I work through my backlog of other fics - and maybe when Season 5 ends I'll be right back with more fics!**

 **(And I totally haven't gotten any one-shot spin off ideas now the ending has settled in my mind. Nope. Not at all ...)**

 **(I totally will not be back in a few weeks with two one-shots my brain won't let go of. Never! Totally not going to do anything during my time off work next month ...)**

 **Tears x**


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